


Share And Share Alike

by Anonymous



Series: Winter At Kaer Morhen - SASA & Related Works [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: (Happy tears mostly), (idk about Panty Kink but better safe than sorry?), Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Axii Probably Doesn't Work That Way Oh Well, Bondage, Bottom!Geralt, Breeding Bench, Butt Plugs, Come Marking, Come play, Coming In Pants, Consensual Humiliation, Crying, Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, Degrading Language Spoken Lovingly, Dirty Talk, Display, Droit du Seigneur, Dubious to Enthusiastic Consent, Edging, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fancy Clothes but Make It Kinky, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, Group Sex, IN THIS HOUSE WE SAY SWITCH RIGHTS, Inappropriate use of Axii, Jealousy, Knot Pulling, Knot Tugging, Knotting, Lingerie, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic Horny Salve, Medical Kink But Make It Witchery, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pack Dynamics, Panty Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Orgasm Torture, Power Dynamics, Primae Noctis, Punishment, Safeword Use, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Sex Toys, Spanking, Subdrop, Tail Plugs, This is getting away from me, Tickling, Toy sharing, Turns Out Someone Does Say Daddy Welp, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy, Witchersexual!Geralt, Witchersexual!Jaskier, Worryingly Enthusiastic Consent, Yeah that tag should have been here eariler, [cracks knuckles], a secret set of Witcher rules for the proper process of deflowering bards, examination, idk anymore man, knot play, presenting, sharing is caring, whoo boy okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kaer Morhen had not been what Jaskier had expected.From what words he could pull from the Witcher’s lips, he’d expected cold stone, high walls, scattered straw, and terse company. Not...a well kept keep, warm from large fires, with abundant good food and rich wines.There had been a strange tension, an undercurrent between all of them when Jaskier had trailed in behind Geralt. Geralt’s shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and he met every molten gaze with his head high. He looked ready for a fight at any moment.Which was strange, because Geralt’s fellow Witchers were…Well, welcoming wasn’t the right word, exactly.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir
Series: Winter At Kaer Morhen - SASA & Related Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718008
Comments: 596
Kudos: 2197
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Welcome to Kaer Morhen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> This is the first part of a birthday gift for badwolfbadwolf, who is a terrible enabler and who I adore.
> 
> General warnings: Jaskier is 19 and a virgin here. He and Geralt have an established relationship, but Jaskier doesn't want to go further until he has the approval of the closest thing Geralt has to a family. What Jaskier doesn't know is that in winter, snowed in and with nothing else to do, Witchers fuck. A Lot. And the general rule is, whoever you bring, you share.
> 
> If you squint, you can find hints of prenegotiation. Jaskier is less than informed about what's going to happen, but ultimately loves the idea. But if soft dubcon is a squick for you, please steer clear and care for yourself. There's a lot of assumed consent, but no explicitly stated consent. It's not exactly fuck-or-die, but it is "fuck or stay locked away from the Witchers in a tower room until the passes clear" so. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> That said, happy birthday dear Wolfie, and enjoy!

Kaer Morhen had not been what Jaskier had expected.

From what words he could pull from the Witcher’s lips, he’d expected cold stone, high walls, scattered straw, and terse company. Not...a well kept keep, warm from large fires, with abundant good food and rich wines. 

There had been a strange tension, an undercurrent between all of them when Jaskier had trailed in behind Geralt. Geralt’s shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and he met every molten gaze with his head high. He looked ready for a fight at any moment. 

Which was strange, because Geralt’s fellow Witchers were…

Well, welcoming wasn’t the right word, exactly.

“Your human looks frozen.” A solidly built witcher with short dark hair had thrown out sharply. He had the same slitted yellow eyes as Geralt, pupils narrow and gaze intent. He was on his feet in an instant, urging Jaskier to drop his pack and wet cloak in the middle of the floor. Then he was guiding Jaskier to a bench piled with furs, next to the large fireplace, a strong arm slung around Jaskier’s shoulders. His words had been rough, but touch warm. “We’ll get some wine in you, that’ll get your thin blood moving again.”

“He’s not _mine-_ ” Geralt began, then immediately looked as though the words tasted sour in his mouth.

“Is that right?” The other witcher held Jaskier’s gaze for a long moment. Jaskier watched the center pupils grow round and dark, and felt his heartbeat in his mouth. He didn’t know what that meant. “I’m Lambert. Remember me.” 

“...Jaskier.” The bard managed, taking a small sip of the hot spiced wine. Lambert’s hand lingered on the cup over Jaskier’s, as though he thought the bard might be weak from cold or illness. “I don’t think I could forget you if I tried, Lambert.” 

Geralt made a low sound, almost a snarl.

“You said he wasn’t yours.” Lambert commented idly, not taking his gaze from Jaskier’s face.

“I intend to _fix_ that.” Geralt’s words were so quiet, Jaskier barely heard them. “You could _at least_ wait for the second night, Lambert.”

“He needs someone to warm him tonight.” Lambert drawled with a lazy smile. “His hands are frozen.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked softly, breaking eye contact with Lambert and looking with worry to his friend. Lambert’s hand left his abruptly, and Jaskier realized that his hands _were_ red and chapped with the cold. He set the cup down and rubbed them briskly, trying to get more feeling back into his numb fingers. He didn’t ask the surly man to his left, large body radiating heat. He had the feeling Geralt wouldn’t like it.

“It’s nothing. Drink your wine. I have to talk to Vesemir.” Geralt stalked off, looking- if possible- even more unhappy. Jaskier watched the older man meet Geralt in the middle of the hall, pulling him aside for a brief, tense conversation. 

“Here.” A soft rasp of a voice on his other side tugged Jaskier from his thoughts. His eyes widened at the large, scarred man on his right. “Don’t be frightened, or nervous.” Jaskier shook his head dumbly, because how could he be frightened of a man who approached him like he was a nervous baby goat. Large, careful hands pressed a bowl laden with fragrant, rich stew into his own. Gods be kind, were witchers chosen on the size of their hands? The spread of their shoulders? “They’ll get it sorted out. You’re not in trouble.” 

“Oh. Thank you-”

“Eskel.” A carved wooden spoon was pressed into Jaskier’s fingers, and he took it, surprised at another lingering touch.

“...Eskel.”

“And you’re Jaskier.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, Jaskier. When there’s a single candle burning and your eyes are half closed with pleasure, I’m just as pretty as your witcher.” Jaskier shifted as those words sent an unwanted blade of heat into his gut. 

“What-”

“Don’t worry. I know you’re Geralt’s tonight, even if he hasn’t claimed you yet. But...pick me for the second night. Not Lambert. I’ll be good to you.”

“Second night?” 

“He didn’t tell you.” Lambert said, snorting out a derisive laugh. “Just dragged you in here with no idea of what’s coming. ‘Course he did. You’re in for a _treat_.”

“Tell me what?” Jaskier asked, taking a quick gulp of his wine. It was very strong, sending his head swimming.

“Well. Vesemir will explain.” Eskel said softly, shooting Lambert a warning glance with the smallest shake of his head. 

“Explain _what?_ ”

* * *

"You brought an unclaimed human here for winter. What were you thinking?" Vesemir’s hand was tight on Geralt’s upper arm, his eyes intent. “Send him back down the mountain. Tonight.”

“Impossible. The snow’s already thick on the ground. He’ll die trying to find his way back down in the dark.” And some twisting part inside him nearly purred with pleasure at the situation. Geralt had known, hadn’t he? The bard would have little choice.

"I’ll claim him tonight. For his own good. It's too late not to share, and you know it."

"I know. I had no choice." Vesemir’s lip curled at the lie, and the way the back of Geralt’s neck grew hot with it. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Now, neither does he." Vesemir’s tone was stern as he prodded Geralt’s chest with two fingers. “Remember this. Whatever happens, you made this choice for him. Everything that happens to him, you chose.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good lad.” Vesemir exhaled through his nose, regarding Geralt with wry affection. “All right. Well, let’s see what you’ve brought us all.” 

* * *

“You’re warm? You’ve eaten?” The older witcher who stood in front of Jaskier, straight backed with an unshakeable air of command, had be Vesemir. The leader of this particular wolf pack. 

“Uh- yes. Yes. The stew and wine were both very good, thank you-” Jaskier wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, quickly setting the empty bowl aside.

“Good. Up.”

“Oh-” Jaskier glanced at the witchers flanking him. They both moved away from him on the bench, leaving him plenty of space.

“I said _up_.” Jaskier scrambled quickly to his feet, knocking his empty wine cup over in haste. “Leave it.” Jaskier’s hands fell instantly back to his sides. “Hm. How many winters have you seen?”

“19, not including this one. Sir.” 

“19.” Vesemir mused quietly. “You prone to illness? Chills? Wasting sicknesses in your family line?” 

“Sore throats in winter if I forget my scarf and sing too much. Otherwise- no?”

“Good. Have all your teeth?”

“Yes sir.”

“Let me see.” Jaskier hesitantly parted his lips, baring his teeth in a nervous grin. He made a startled noise when the man’s thumb rested on his chin, forcing his mouth open wider. Jaskier could feel Lambert and Eskel’s eyes on him as his lips parted. He could feel a blush starting, creeping its way up his neck. The flush deepened when a leather gloved finger pushed down on his bottom teeth, opening his mouth wider. He shivered when Vesemir actually touched a fingertip to each white tooth, checking for looseness, counting them. Vesemir pinched lightly at his tongue, lifting it. When Vesemir’s finger and thumb withdrew, Jaskier wet his lips unconsciously. He could still taste the warm, clean leather on his tongue.

“Don’t lie to me.” Vesemir ordered. “Answer anything I ask you honestly, the first time I ask it.” 

“W-what would I lie about?”

“Anything.”

“No, sir. I won’t lie.”

“You’ve got nice manners, I’ll give you that.” Vesemir raised an eyebrow at that.

“Had them beaten into me with a cane at temple school.” Jaskier muttered sulkily, dropping his eyes to the floor. He added, after a moment of Vesemir saying nothing in response, “...sir.” 

“Hm. We don’t use canes at Kaer Morhen.” Gloved thumbs pressed under each of Jaskier’s eyes. “Look up. To the left. Right.” Jaskier did his best not to shift and squirm under the close scrutiny. 

Satisfied that Jaskier’s eyes were clear and sharp, those gloved fingers carded through Jaskier’s unwashed, messy hair. Checking for- what? Nits? Bald spots? Who knew. His ears were checked as well.

“Weak limbs? Broken bones? Deep scars that ache?” 

“N-no sir. Twisted an ankle when I was eleven, one bad fever when I was nine. Otherwise, nothing. Hale and strong.” He felt unaccountably like a horse that Vesemir was deciding whether or not was a fitting mount for Geralt. Vesemir’s gloved hands rested on either side of his throat, thumbs and fingers pressing on either side of his jaw and neck.

“Good. Any venereal diseases?”

“What-” The word came out in an indignant yelp.

“You ever catch anything from a partner on your cock or arse? Sores, warts? Any dripping, burning?” _What did that have to do with anything?_

“No! No- I mean, I wouldn’t- I’ve never-” His face burned. “With anyone. Paid or otherwise.”

“ _Never_?” Vesemir asked coolly. Something shifted behind those intent eyes. They flicked to Geralt, appraising, then returned to Jaskier.

“Just...kisses. And what can be done with hands. Fingers once.” Jaskier mumbled hotly. Geralt took in a sharp breath behind him but otherwise stayed silent.

“Hm.” Vesemir seemed satisfied, and glanced at Geralt with a curt nod. “Get him a bath and something clean to sleep in. I’ll see the rest tonight.”

“Right. Tonight.” Jaskier said quietly, feeling his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He was grateful for the looser cut of his winter trousers. The examination had set something stirring in him, twisting and warm. He jumped at Geralt’s firm hand on his shoulder. “Tonight? Geralt, what happens tonight?”

“Bath first.” Geralt grunted. “Questions later.”

* * *

“Geralt, _stop-_ ” Jaskier spluttered as the third bucket of nearly scalding water doused him. “Stop, I mean it! I can- I can _wash myself-_ _Geralt!_ ” Jaskier folded his arms tightly across his chest, knees tucked up in the small tub. Geralt was attacking him vigorously with a soapy cloth, scrubbing with furious purpose over his face and neck, behind his ears. “Geralt, I don’t appreciate being- being manhandled like a reluctant pig you’re going to drag to the fair!”

“Now _you_ know how it feels. Now shut. Up.” Geralt snarled, voice deadly and low. “Stop squirming.” Jaskier froze. “Arm.” Tentatively, Jaskier held out his arm to Geralt, and was rewarded at least with softer strokes of the cloth. He could appreciate the fragrance of the well made soap, too. Beeswax and faint herbs, citrus. So light he could barely smell it.

“Geralt, what’s happening now? Talk to me.” 

“...We’re spending the night in Vesemir’s rooms. He wants you clean.” Geralt sighed, at last.

“...Geralt, _why_ am I- are _we_ -”

“Because Witchers share everything in winter.” Geralt’s eyes held Jaskier’s, pupils narrowed down to thin black slits. He bared sharp teeth at Jaskier in a feral grin. “And in this keep, Vesemir always goes first.”

“When you say everything- oh gods-” Jaskier’s arms and knees had eased from their tightly clenched position, and Geralt had taken advantage of the fact, plunging his hand into the water to swipe between his legs. He rubbed firmly over Jaskier’s half hard cock with the rough, soapy cloth. “Geralt, what are you doing?”

“Getting you clean. Relax.” 

“Well forgive me if it’s hard to relax when you’ve literally got me by the balls-” Jaskier made a ragged, shocked sound as a soap slick finger nudged behind said balls to brush his tight hole. “Geralt, wait. Wait-”

“I’m getting you clean.” Geralt repeated sharply, rough hands forcing Jaskier onto his knees and leaning him forward over the edge of the tub. “Just relax, it’ll only take a second.” 

“I have- hah- _questions!_ I don’t want that distraction right now-” Jaskier whispered, his cock growing fully hard as he squirmed away from Geralt’s finger.

“You’re getting it anyway.” Jaskier cried out sharply at the inexorable press of that thick fingertip, just inside his hole. “One finger is as far as I’m going. Breathe.”

“I can’t- I can’t- Geralt, decide if you're playing or cleaning, and either way _wait a damn moment-_ ” While it didn’t hurt, the intrusion felt strange and foreign. The stretch and press burned a little, too. Jaskier thought dizzily that in a different context, that burn might actually feel...very good.

“That’s all I’m doing. Cleaning.” Geralt said soothingly, swiping the cloth slowly up and down Jaskier’s cock. “There. Just give it a moment. Bear down.”

Jaskier pressed his forehead to the wooden rim of the tub, trying to breathe around the unfamiliar sensation. If Geralt was doing this now, there was a reason. He’d never hurt or pressed Jaskier before, and he wasn’t exactly hurting him now. Just going about...cleaning. In a new way. 

Geralt withdrew his finger, and Jaskier eased, tried to straighten back up, but the firm press of a wet hand on the back of his neck told him to _stay_ . Jaskier swallowed thickly as Geralt’s finger, slick with more soap, pressed firmly back inside, all the way to the last knuckle. “Geralt, please, you don’t have to stop, fine, but just tell me-” He whispered weakly. “Why are you cleaning me _there_?” 

“Vesemir is going to fuck you tonight while I watch.” Geralt said softly. “Don’t want to be worried about being dirty when he does, do you?”

“I- no- but- _wait-_ ” Jaskier cried out again as Geralt’s finger withdrew, then slid in deeper. 

“I wanted to be your _first_ .” Geralt growled low, but with warmth. “But you wanted to be here for the _winter_ with me. You wanted my comrades’ _approval._ ” The finger twisted inside him and Jaskier bit down on his bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I- I- I just wanted-” He had wanted time alone with Geralt. Without monsters, without moving from town to town. Knowing more of who Geralt was, where he had come from. Time to ask Geralt to be the first. For more than brief kisses and the witcher’s rough, brisk hand on his cock when he woke in the middle of the night, hard and aching.

“You’re going to get everything you wanted. And more.” Geralt promised quietly, withdrawing his finger. He stroked slowly over Jaskier’s hole with the cloth, his touch gentler. Geralt’s voice grew softer, apologetic. “I could see you down the mountain at first light. The snow’s thick, but with the right horse…”

“I still wouldn’t make it alone.” Jaskier said quietly.

“You wouldn’t. And I'm needed here.” Geralt agreed. “If you were lucky, you’d be able to turn around and come back before dark.”

“So it’s not really a choice, is it?”

“It’s still a choice.” 

“Give-” Jaskier’s face was red and flushed, and he held out his hand. “Give me the cloth. I- I can get the rest of myself clean. Now that I know why.”

“Just clean. Don’t touch yourself more than that.” Geralt’s face was neutral, set in calm lines. He stood up, drying his arms and hands with a clean cloth. He shook out a thin, plain linen nightshirt, and draped it over the chair. “Put that on when you’re done. I’ll have the bath after you.”

“Don’t suppose you need help _cleaning?_...” Jaskier mumbled, cheeks red, scrubbing the cloth under each of his arms and ignoring the now-insistent throbbing of his cock. 

“No.” Geralt said flatly. “And you’ll want to sleep for an hour or two. If you can. You’ll need the rest. Won’t get much of it this first week.”


	2. Vesemir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’ll be careful with you. You’ll want it when he’s done. You’ll beg for it.” Geralt nosed behind Jaskier’s ear, inhaling sharply. His words were low and dark. “He’s good at training, Vesemir. By the end of the winter, you’ll spend from the sound of his laces being undone. You’re going to love it. You’ll be sobbing for his cock, begging to come on it.” He exhaled slowly. “Right now you smell like clean sweat and crushed grass. But by the time spring comes...no matter how often you wash...you’re going to smell like all of us.” Geralt fingered the thin linen of Jaskier’s tunic with an almost nostalgic smile. “This is the last time I’m going to see you wearing clothes all winter.”

Jaskier was awoken with a rough shake, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Geralt stood over him, and his pulse immediately sped in his throat. He held up his hands in a reflexive warding gesture. “I’m up- I’m up-.” He mumbled, sitting up and flushing at the small tent his already hardening cock made in the thin fabric.

“Hm.”

“Geralt-” Geralt was not dressed in sleeping clothes. He’d taken his armor off and changed to a clean black shirt, but he still wore his leather riding pants and boots. His hair, clean and curling slightly, was pulled into a low tail at the nape of his neck. Bound with a leather cord.

“Let’s go.”

The stone floors were cold under Jaskier’s bare feet, and he was led through a maze of hallways and doors that all looked alike. He could tell, vaguely, that they were moving up - after the second twisting staircase, he was almost certain of it. Geralt kept a hand posessively on Jaskier’s upper arm. At the end of a long hallway, Geralt stopped, his expression open and tender as he cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands. 

“He won’t hurt you.” Geralt said quietly. “But he won’t go easy on you, either. When he asks questions, don’t lie. When you feel pleasure, let yourself.”

“Geralt-” Jaskier whispered, searching Geralt’s face for- something. He wasn’t sure what. “I wanted it to be _you_.” 

“I’ll be there.” Geralt said quietly. “I’ll see everything.” Jaskier’s pulse sped at that and he groaned behind clenched teeth. Geralt eased his thigh between Jaskier’s legs, rocking forward. “And he’ll be good to you.”

“What does that _mean_ , Geralt?” Jaskier groaned, pressing his hips into Geralt’s with little thought, seeking out familiar friction and relief.

“He’ll be careful with you. You’ll want it when he’s done. You’ll beg for it.” Geralt nosed behind Jaskier’s ear, inhaling sharply. His words were low and dark. “He’s good at training, Vesemir. By the end of the winter, you’ll spend from the sound of his laces being undone. You’re going to love it. You’ll be sobbing for his cock, begging to come on it.” He exhaled slowly. “Right now you smell like clean sweat and crushed grass. But by the time spring comes...no matter how often you wash...you’re going to smell like all of us.” Geralt fingered the thin linen of Jaskier’s tunic with an almost nostalgic smile. “This is the last time I’m going to see you wearing clothes all winter.”

“Geralt-” Jaskier’s scent was thick with arousal, but spiked and sharp around the edges with nerves. The barest spice of fear. “Geralt, I’ve never- I don't know if I can do this. Not with all four of you. Not all winter. With you, yes, of course. Vesemir if- if it’s some unavoidable Witcher tradition, but I can’t-” His face grew hot and he squirmed against the Witcher’s muscular thigh and strong grip on his shoulders. “I can’t play a bitch in heat for a keep full of witchers in _rut_.” Jaskier spat out the word, then regretted it when all it earned him was a soft huff of amused agreement. “Geralt, I don’t know how to please _one_ human with anything but my _hand._ And that one human is usually me. You’re asking too much. Please.”

“You’re strong, and you’re young. You’ll learn, and you’ll love it.” Geralt thumbed roughly over the stiff peak of one nipple, pressing against the thin fabric. “I promise. You’ll beg me to come back next year.”

“I don’t think-”

“Don’t. Think. Don’t think of the rest of winter.” Geralt growled low, lips hovering just over the beating pulse in Jaskier’s throat. It waited just under the skin, sweet and tempting as a piece of candy. “Just focus on enjoying tonight.”

\---

“Good evening.” Vesemir stood next to the fireplace, his voice soft and warm. He had a glass of wine resting loosely in his fingers, the firelight throwing darts of gold through the thick red liquid. “Well. Come in.”

Jaskier did his best to keep his chin high despite the fine trembling that had started at Geralt’s words, and hadn’t left. _By the end of the winter, you’ll spend from the sound of his laces being undone._ _You’ll learn, and you’ll love it._ What did that mean? What was waiting in this room? His erection had flagged somewhat, but the heat of arousal was still there, waiting under his skin. Jaskier took a breath, trying to calm himself, but it came out as a choked sob of nervous anticipation. Vesemir raised an eyebrow at the sound, stepping closer to Jaskier and resting a firm hand at the nape of his neck. “None of that, now.” He said quietly. Jaskier swallowed hard, nodding weakly. “Whatever stories they’ve told you, I won’t hurt you. Everything that happens tonight is for your own good. I’ll make sure you won’t be hurt all winter. Unless you want to be.” 

Jaskier opened his mouth to say- he wasn’t sure what- when two fingers pressed against his lips.

“If you truly don’t want this, you have a choice. You can pass this first storm in the tower. It has a thick door, a sturdy lock. My wolves have made do with each other before.”

“-alone?”

“Yes, alone. Geralt would play your part. The first day the pass is clear, you’d leave. And he wouldn’t return here with you unclaimed again.”

“I- I don’t want that.” Jaskier admitted softly. And the coiled tension in his body proved that at least some part of him- at the very least, the half-interested twitch of his cock against the soft linen- was curious about the other choice.

“Come here, then.” Vesemir sat down in a leather armchair, tugging Jaskier onto his lap. A firm hand squeezed his round ass through the thin fabric. “Geralt.” Vesemir said, not looking away from Jaskier’s red face. “Find a spot where you can see, and stay there until I need you.” There was a scrape of wood against stone, and Jaskier looked over his shoulder. Geralt had settled in a wooden chair, feet planted firmly on the floor. His hands had tightened to fists on his thighs. 

Jaskier took a shaking breath, overwhelmed and uncertain where to look. Was the right choice studying the man touching him, or the man _watching_ ? Vesemir’s hand gripped his jaw, turning his face back. “No, you look at me.” Tears of relief pricked at Jaskier’s eyes, hot and stinging, then spilled over. Jaskier fought not to squirm- sex was _supposed_ to feel good, he knew that. But was it supposed to feel _this_ good? In someone else’s strong arms, while the person you loved sat by and watched? He pressed his lips together, tilting his chin up and meeting Vesemir’s eyes as steadily as he could.

Vesemir dragged his thumb through the wetness on Jaskier’s cheeks, wiping the tears away and then feeding them to Jaskier. His thumb pressed between Jaskier’s lips, and Jaskier tasted salt and the lingering ghost of warm leather. He could feel his cock filling eagerly in response. “There. Now, little lark, let’s see the rest.”

“Ah- no-” Jaskier tried to put up a token protest, without much feeling, his hands instinctively going to shield his eager cock from the older man’s eyes. Jaskier suddenly realized that he’d feel less naked without the teasing brush of the thin shirt. Vesemir’s hands were on his wrists in a flash, pinning his arms firmly to his sides.

“You can cling to my shoulders, or keep your hands there. Those are your choices.” Vesemir continued with a glint in his eye as he released Jaskier’s wrists, palming the eager bulge obviously waiting for a touch. Jaskier burned hotter, at Vesemir’s knowledge of his body’s reaction. “I wouldn’t worry. There isn’t much to hide.” Vesemir murmured in Jaskier’s ear, slowly easing the thin shirt up his stomach. “Not compared to my wolves.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Jaskier whispered nervously under his breath.. “Geralt told me a little, but-”

“You don’t have to do anything, little lark. Just relax. Enjoy.” Jaskier bit back a frantic sound as Vesemir’s thumb dragged slowly back and forth over the slick head of Jaskier’s cock.

“Why- why do you all call yourselves _wolves_?” Jaskier blurted out, then buried his face in the crook of Vesemir’s neck. Vesemir allowed it, running his other hand slowly between the bard’s shoulders. 

“It’s a private joke between brothers in arms. We’re the school of the wolf.” 

“Oh-” Jaskier began quietly, thoughts settling. Those languid thoughts scattered as Vesemir wrapped the base of his tender prick in one large hand and _squeezed_.

“We’re all blessed with a unique mutation that makes us even more wolflike, little lark. Just here.”

“What does that mean?” Jaskier’s mouth went suddenly dry. 

“You’re going to learn firsthand what it means. First, a few more questions. You remember my rules.”

“Answer anything you ask honestly, the first time you ask it.”

“Good boy.” The unexpected praise, combined with the warmth in Vesemir’s voice sent a curling, tingling lick of flame through Jaskier. Vesemir’s firm hand was slowly stroking Jaskier’s eager cock, the other holding him in place with a tight grip on his ass. Those touches combined with the knowledge of Vesemir’s _approval_ suddenly were too much. Jaskier cried out in embarrassed surprise as his orgasm overtook him, spending messily over Vesemir’s fingers with frantic, open mouthed groans. He panted against Vesemir’s neck, closing his eyes tightly and whimpering at the shock of it.

“Ah, I see.” Vesemir said, sounding surprised as well, but deeply pleased.

“Oh no.” Jaskier whispered, face burning with aroused humiliation. “I- I didn’t- didn’t mean to-”

“Well. That answers one question, anyway. Clean up your mess, little lark.” Vesemir’s clean hand tugged Jaskier’s face away from his neck, and he brought the mess the bard had left on his fingers up for Jaskier’s scrutiny. Jaskier fumbled for the hem of the shirt, thinking to wipe Vesemir’s hand clean with the fresh linen. “No, not with that.” Vesemir murmured, tone silk over steel. 

Jaskier hesitantly dipped his head to the offered palm, closing his eyes and cleaning up the mess with small, quick licks. He heard Geralt’s sharp inhale again, and a rustle of cloth as a body shifted behind him.

“You brought a kitten, Geralt, not the songbird you wrote about. Wicked little tongue.” When Vesemir’s palm and fingers were clean and damp with Jaskier’s saliva, he pushed a finger between Jaskier’s lips, stroking in and out slowly. “And warm, soft lips. Guard your teeth.” He murmured the guidance softly, thumb stroking the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Good boy. I’ll keep your mouth full while you think about your answers.” 

At Jaskier’s puzzled, almost sleepy look, Vesemir chuckled, low in his ear. “Well, the first question was if you were truly going to enjoy this. Your body answered before I could ask.” Jaskier groaned a soft affirmative with a shiver, his body echoing at the reminder of such recent pleasure. Vesemir withdrew his fingers, brushing them against Jaskier’s bottom lip. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Jaskier stammered, unable to stop the guilty squirm that admission gave him. He sucked in a breath and nodded, his face hot.

“Want me to come inside you? Nice and deep. Be the first one to mark you?”

“You were Geralt’s first, weren’t you?” Jaskier asked, wetting his lips and daring a glance backward. His face was quickly turned to Vesemir’s. 

“Yes. You want to have that in common?”

“I want to be as good to him as he’s going to be to me. If he had you as a teacher…” Jaskier trailed off at the image that presented, his cock already beginning to fill again.

“I follow your thread.” Vesemir said with a pleased smirk. 

“Yes, sir.”

“You want whatever else I decide to give you a lesson in?” 

“...Geralt trusts you. I- I trust that.” Jaskier’s skin was burning, and his cock was rapidly shifting from _interested_ to _painfully invested_ in Vesemir’s answer. “-yes. I want. Yes.”

“Weren’t very hard to sway you from trembling with nerves to needy, were you boy?” Vesemir said with a quiet laugh. “You’ll be begging before I get my fingers in you.”

“I’ll beg now if you don’t put your fingers back in my mouth-” Jaskier tried to drawl, the way he’d heard through thin inn walls. Vesemir’s fingers were back in his mouth before he could get to the sixth word. The reality of having two thick fingers pressing against his tongue was far better than any fantasy filled in with overheard gasps. He shifted restlessly on Vesemir’s lap, hips rocking forward, seeking anything but warm air and finding nothing. 

“Gonna come again for me just like this?” Vesemir teased softly. “Gods, I remember being that young. Go on then. Ride my thigh while I fuck your mouth.” Jaskier cried out softly as the fingers were withdrawn and he was lifted, shifted so he was straddling the thick seam running up Vesemir’s solid, leather clad thigh. “You just rock against that.”

And then Vesemir was filling his mouth again, three fingers making his jaw stretch and ache, and Jaskier couldn’t do anything but comply. 

“You thought you could keep him all for yourself?” Vesemir mused over Jaskier’s shoulder at Geralt. “If you managed it, you’d still be begging us to take him for a night so you could get some sleep by the second week.”

Jaskier let his eyes fall shut, rocking greedily against Vesemir's thigh with a quiet moan each time the man lifted his leg.

"That's it." Vesemir coaxed softly, stroking his fingers back and forth over Jaskier's tongue. "You just think of how good that'll be when it's my cock. You dream about that and rut against my leg."

Jaskier couldn't speak around the fingers pressing on his tongue, instead making low, pleading sounds. They fell from his lips, frantic and obscene as he ground down again and again. It was good, so good, and he was so close, but-

Jaskier let his heavy lidded eyes open, meeting Vesemir’s eyes. Pleading, but unsure what he was asking for. There was the barest quirk of Vesemir’s mouth, and he let the bunched up fabric of the shirt fall back down over Jaskier’s cock. “Waiting for permission, are you?” Vesemir slid his fingers deeper into Jaskier’s mouth, just nudging the back of his throat. Jaskier choked, his whole body abruptly tensed, and he gasped for air the second they moved away. His eyes widened, looking to Vesemir with frantic confusion.

“The next time-” Vesemir said quietly, voice heavy with command. “You come.”

Jaskier managed a shaky nod. Then Vesemir's thigh pressed _up_ as his fingers slid _in._ Jaskier saw white and gold starbursts behind his eyes, this climax leaving him messy, weak and shivering. He breathed shallowly around Vesemir's fingers, feeling the now damp cloth clinging to him.

"Good lad." Vesemir murmured, gentling Jaskier with a hand between his shoulders. "Let's get this off you and get you on the bed."

"Bed." Jaskier echoed thickly, trying to make sense of the word.

"Yes. Do you want something to make this easier?" Vesemir asked as he stripped the shift off, using a dry corner of the fabric to clean the mess off Jaskier's stomach and thighs. Jaskier's eyes widened.

"Oil or- or something slick?" He managed to stammer, shifting under the knowing gaze. "Or salve? Something besides...spit."

"Gods be good, I meant wine or a potion. I'm not going to fuck that pretty little ass dry. I mean to ruin you, not break you." Vesemir's words made Jaskier's body thrum and he whimpered as his cock gave a half-hearted twitch of interest. "You want that, eh?"

"Please-"

"Shh. I'll get you ready. Let's see if we can get one more out of you to take the edge off before you take all of me."

"I can't, I can't- not yet-"

"You have no idea," Vesemir growled tenderly next to his ear, "What that little prick of yours is capable of. Not yet. Tell me you can't come when I've got my fingers deep in you, and maybe I'll believe you. _Maybe._ "

Jaskier went limp in the older man's arms, shaking all over at the thought. Vesemir held him close for a moment, then, in a tone that brooked no argument, called for Geralt.


	3. Vesemir's Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Geralt-” Jaskier tried to think of how to put everything in words, then gasped as Vesemir’s hands were gripping his hips, raising them to slide a pillow underneath.
> 
> “Do you have any idea what you smell like?” Geralt dipped his head to Jaskier’s neck, inhaling deeply. Scenting him. Jaskier shivered, letting the unsaid words die on his lips. “You smell fucking eager, Jaskier. Ripe. Every wolf in this keep is going to want a bite of you, but you’re still mine. No matter how many times they fuck you, no matter whose cock you’re coming on-” Jaskier groaned at the dark torrent of words, his toes curling against the soft bedding.
> 
> “That’s enough cooing at each other.” The older man’s tone was fond, though Jaskier’s body tensed at the unexpected touch. 
> 
> “Easy, lad. Easy now.” Jaskier closed his eyes and breathed. The bed shifted as Geralt moved off it, and he heard the now familiar scrape of wood against stone. Jaskier made a weak sound and nodded. “Good. I’m going to open you up now, and you’re going to answer my questions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've ever written knotting, and god only knows if I got it right. Pray for me.

Geralt was there in an instant, his arms warm and familiar around Jaskier. Jaskier shivered and let himself be gathered up, pressing his face into Geralt’s chest and breathing in deeply. Even without a Witcher’s senses, Geralt smelled like home. Geralt laid Jaskier out carefully on the bed, arranging the bard's heavy limbs with a soft smile. Jaskier couldn’t help looking up at him with a blissed out grin, laughing weakly.

“You’re doing so well for him,” Geralt murmured, running his fingers slowly through Jaskier’s tousled hair. “Twice already. He’s going to wring you dry.” 

“Geralt-” Jaskier tried to think of how to put everything in words, then gasped as Vesemir’s hands were gripping his hips, raising them to slide a pillow underneath.

“Do you have any idea what you  _ smell  _ like?” Geralt dipped his head to Jaskier’s neck, inhaling deeply.  _ Scenting _ him. Jaskier shivered, letting the unsaid words die on his lips. “You smell fucking  _ eager _ , Jaskier.  _ Ripe _ . Every wolf in this keep is going to want a bite of you, but you’re still  _ mine _ . No matter how many times they fuck you, no matter whose cock you’re coming on _ - _ ” Jaskier groaned at the dark torrent of words, his toes curling against the soft bedding.

“That’s enough cooing at each other.” The older man’s tone was fond, though Jaskier’s body tensed at the unexpected touch. “Easy, lad. Easy now.” Jaskier closed his eyes and breathed. The bed shifted as Geralt moved off it, and he heard the now familiar scrape of wood against stone. Jaskier made a weak sound and nodded. “Good. I’m going to open you up now, and you’re going to answer my questions.”

“Oh-” Jaskier’s hands tightened into fists at his sides, clenching and relaxing, then nodded weakly. 

“Above your head and crossed, there’s a good boy.” Vesemir responded to the unasked question. Jaskier obeyed, gripping his left wrist tightly with his right hand. “You ever do this to yourself? With or without your Witcher?”

“Ah- gods-” Jaskier gasped sharply as a slick fingertip circled his hole, closing his eyes tightly. 

“With or without.” Vesemir prompted patiently.

“...without, a few times. Just- just to try. It felt strange.” 

“And with?”

“...twice.” Jaskier’s face was hot at the memory.

“Tell me both.”

“Once tonight in- in the tub-” That drew a low rumble from Vesmir’s throat that made Jaskier squirm and hurry to add, “Just to clean, just to- fuck- just to get me ready, not- not like-”

“You  _ had _ to be first tonight,” Vesemir said with quiet meaning to Geralt, and Jaskier’s dick really shouldn’t twitch at the potential threat in those words. It did anyway, and he groaned behind clenched teeth. “The other time?”

“Before- before we came here. At the inn.” It had been little more than a tease, Geralt rubbing with slick fingers. Probing gently, barely deep enough to stretch. Just enough to send Jaskier tumbling instantly over the edge with a hoarse shout.

“What did you use for slick?” Vesemir pressed lightly at Jaskier’s hole, teasing with one thick, rough fingertip. 

“Ah- fuck- sword oil? I think? It was thin, I wasn’t paying attention.” Jaskier panted raggedly, not sure if he was squirming to get away from the slick sensation and press, or get more of it.

“Sword oil.” Vesemir’s tone was amused. “And when you were by yourself?”

“Just- just spit- just- oh fuck, please-” 

“Feel good with spit, boy?”

“Not- not really?” Jaskier’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then he groaned, throaty and deep, at the barest breach. “Oh  _ fuck _ . Not like this. This is better.” Vesemir’s fingertip pressed in, just enough for Jaskier to feel it. Slick and warm and pressing in deeper. So slowly that Jaskier felt like he was going mad. “More. Please more?”

“Hm.” 

“...please, sir?” Jaskier gasped raggedly, and then arched up with a cry when Vesemir granted his request. “Oh gods, oh fucking  _ gods _ -”

“The mouth on you.” Vesemir murmured quietly. “Different when it’s someone else’s finger, isn’t it?” Jaskier groaned wordlessly, rocking back and forth as much as he could until a firm hand on his hip kept him still. “You’re so tight, little lark. So tight and hot. Wonder what you’ll feel like at the start of spring, hm? After all my wolves use you. Going this slow will be a punishment, not tender consideration. You’ll be slick and open and messy. It’ll feel so wrong when you’re empty.” Vesemir’s finger withdrew and Jaskier blushed at the warm chuckle when he canted his hips, trying to chase after it. The sudden slide of  _ more _ took his breath away. “Good boy. There’s a good boy, you just let me in. Open up easy for me, don’t you? Look how much you need a cock in you.”

Needy, open mouthed gasps fell from Jaskier’s parted lips, and he dared a look at Vesemir’s face. The patience and gentle approval were too much, and he cried out loudly, closing his eyes tightly again. He searched his mind for any words, then managed to stammer, “H-how many is that?” 

“That’s two.” Vesemir did-  _ something-  _ and Jaskier nearly screamed at the blinding pleasure, so intense it bordered on pain. “And  _ that _ is why it’s going to feel so good when there’s more.”

“Wh-what-” Jaskier choked out, but the question died as Vesemir ground his fingers over that spot again and again. 

“You just open up for me, now. Your body knows what to do.” A steady trickle of precome was leaking from Jaskier’s cock now, smearing wetness on his stomach as Vesemir worked him open, dragging relentlessly over that spot that was  _ so  _ much. “This might be too much, but I think you can take it.” Vesemir mused, and the stretch was burning now, making Jaskier hiss through gritted teeth. He bucked, trying to get away from it, trying to get more, and Vesemir’s hand stilled. Jaskier sobbed raggedly, caught between both impulses, animal and wanting. One large hand pressed down, low on his belly, rubbed slow circles there. “Shhh. Good boy. Breathe.” 

Jaskier wasn’t sure what breathing was, but he tried. His cock was painfully hard again, red and leaking.

“There you are.” Vesemir murmured, curling his fingers lightly and touching that spot again that made Jaskier shout. “Let me in.”

“I don’t know  _ how- _ ” Jaskier choked out, shifting restlessly on the sheets. 

“Relax. Breathe. Does it hurt?”

“No, no, it’s just- it’s so  _ much _ -” There was a noise, then, a low sound from where Geralt was sitting. The other Witcher had been so still and silent, that for a moment Jaskier had forgotten his presence. An audibly indrawn breath, a rustle of fabric.

“Oh, little lark, the things I’m going to show you…” Vesemir murmured gently. His fingers stilled inside Jaskier’s body. Jaskier was taking deep gulps of air, feeling his heart pounding in his temples, his throat. In the tight rim of muscle stretched open around- three? Three. Of the man’s thick fingers. “Try to push me out.” Vesemir coaxed quietly. “You won’t be able to, but try.” 

Jaskier did as he was told, his eyes flying open and lips parting on a soft sound as something shifted with his efforts. His body relaxed into the fullness, and  _ too much _ turned into  _ just right _ . “Oh-” He exhaled quietly. “Oh gods, that’s why everyone does this-” Jaskier rambled, his fingers gripping his own wrist until his knuckles went white. “Oh gods move, move move move please-”

“Do you want to come again? I remember you saying something about  _ can’t _ …” Vesemir’s hand gripped Jaskier’s cock, giving it a single rough stroke. “Since you  _ can’t _ , maybe you  _ shouldn’t- _ ” Jaskier cried out, softly pleading, but the fingers spreading him were slipping out. He keened wordlessly, rocking his hips against the emptiness. 

“Please, I need, I need-” 

“I know what you need.” Vesemir’s strong hands flipped Jaskier over onto his stomach, then guided him up onto his hands and knees. There was a pause as Jaskier scrambled to support himself on shaking legs. He shuddered and rested his hips against the pillow, pressed his cheek against the comforter. He felt so exposed, spread so wide, on display. He was so open, and so damn needy. Then Vesemir’s fingers were pushing into him again, Jaskier’s body accommodating the stretch easily in the new position.

“Geralt.” Vesemir snapping the Witcher’s name made Jaskier jump and moan softly. “Shh, you just relax into that. Nothing you need to worry about.” Vesemir murmured, rubbing the small of Jaskier’s back in firm circles. Those fingers pressed in deeper, then spread wide. Jaskier focused on the sensation, and heard distantly, “Get your hand off your cock, pup. Tonight’s not about you.”

Jaskier began to fuck himself back on those fingers, because the angle was perfect and they were slick and thick and he wanted-  _ needed _ \- more. Vesemir chuckled and drew his fingers out, leaving just the tips inside. He spread his fingers as wide as they could inside Jaskier’s relaxed and willing hole. “You’re going to take one more for me.” He said gently. “Then you’ll get what you want.”

“Fucking  _ gods _ how big is your cock if that’s not enough-” Jaskier bit back a sound that was almost a whine. He tensed at the feel of Vesemir’s hard length, freed from it’s confines, brushing teasingly up and down the slick cleft of his ass. “...oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

“ _ That _ big, little lark. And it’ll get bigger.” 

“...one more.” Jaskier agreed meekly, stilling and burying his face in the blankets once more. He rocked his hips into the pillow, trying to shift without his excitement showing.

“Ass up higher.” Vesemir chided, lightly swatting at Jaskier’s hip. Jaskier did his best to raise himself up, his face burning. Vesemir reached between Jaskier’s legs with a sure hand, guiding his cock back until it rested flat. “Don’t want you going off by accident.”

“Please-” Jaskier’s plea was cut off as four fingers slid inside, rubbing deep and then spreading wider each time they drew out.

“There you are. You just be good and take that for me. You can do it.” Jaskier’s response was a frantic chant of curses and prayers under his breath as those fingers drove against that sweet spot inside again and again. He was making low, broken off moans with each thrust, biting at his forearm, sweat beading on his forehead. Vesemir dragged two fingers slowly down the length of Jaskier’s cock, stroking again and again. Jaskier whimpered, feeling the pleasure build and build.

“I can, I can, please- please, can I, please-” Jaskier babbled against the blankets which felt far too warm. 

“What did I tell you?” Vesemir’s voice was calm and placid as he stopped lightly petting Jaskier’s oversensitive cock.

“I have- ff-  _ please _ \- no idea, I didn’t, please-” Vesemir’s finger’s abruptly withdrew and Jaskier sobbed against the covers, his legs and arms trembling. “Oh gods, please-” He whispered, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He heard a rustle of fabric behind him, fingers tapping each of his knees, guiding Jaskier to lift them. When he was readjusted into position, Jaskier realized with a hot flush of arousal he was kneeling on the pure white linen of his nightshirt.

“No sense in washing the whole blanket.” Vesemir muttered gruffly. “You want to come, or you want your first cock?” 

“You, you, whatever you want, please-” Jaskier rubbed his forehead against the covers, shuddering. He cried out hoarsely at the blunt press of the head of Vesemir’s cock at his sensitive, twitching hole. 

“Push me out.” Vesemir coached, as he pressed inside. Dizzily, Jaskier struggled to make his body obey, groaning at the pressure and slight burn of the stretch. He hadn’t seen so much as the top button of the older man’s vest open, but now he knew intimately that Vesemir was  _ thick _ . “You want me in so badly, don’t you?” Jaskier made a soft, wordless sound in reply, mouth open and bitten red. “Good. There. There, just a little more-” 

Jaskier wasn’t sure how there could be  _ more _ . He threw his head back, back arching, and pressed back into the body behind him. 

“That’s it. You’re there.” Vesemir murmured, slowly running his fingers through Jaskier’s damp hair again and again. Jaskier was loose limbed and pliant, breathing raggedly as he shifted his weight between his knees. “That’s nearly all of it.”

“...nearly?” Jaskier mumbled thickly, his whole world narrowed down to the thick length stretching him wide. Then Vesemir gently began to rock forward, not withdrawing, just pressing in slightly deeper. “Ah-  _ ah! _ ” 

“Good boy. Good, good boy. Just take it all in.”

“Please let me- please-” Jaskier begged with a barely audible gasp.

“Go on, then. Take what you need.” Vesemir urged, rocking in deeper still. Jaskier came with a low snarl, his hands tearing at the bed clothes. Every wrenching pulse of pleasure left him shuddering, his skin sensitive to the slightest movement. Vesemir’s hand reached for him, his fingers tight, relentlessly stroking him through it. Vesemir’s movements didn’t stop when Jaskier dropped onto his forearms on the bed with a low groan, boneless and trembling.

When Vesemir’s pace didn’t even slow, Jaskier realized that Vesemir didn’t have any intention of stopping. His steady, deep rocking continued as Jaskier writhed and gasped, even when the aftershocks turned into something sharp edged and biting. Jaskier feverishly murmured a litany of open mouthed, broken sounds, the pleasure so intense it bordered on painful.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh  _ gods- _ ”

“That’s it. You just take what I give you, now.” Vesemir’s pace slowed a fraction, and Jaskier let out a horse yell at the feeling of one finger tracing the edge of his sensitive and swollen rim.

“Oh  _ gods,  _ I can’t, I can’t-” He bit his lip as that finger teased and probed at his entrance. “Please, just-”

“You’ll need the stretch for what’s next. Trust me. There’s a good lad.”

“I  _ can’t- _ ” Jaskier keened, struggling to draw up onto his knees and get away from the overwhelming stretch.

“None of that now. You just breathe and take it.” Vesemir slid his finger in alongside at the same time as he thrust in deep, shifting the angle just slightly. Jaskier felt as though all the breath had been punched out of his gut.

“Oh,  _ fuck- _ ”

“There you go. That’s better, isn’t it? Right there.” Between the burning stretch and slow, deep thrusts right against that point inside his body, that oversensitive painful pleasure was once again melting into something molten and  _ wanted _ . When Vesemir added a second finger alongside his thick cock, Jaskier couldn’t do anything but cling to fistfuls of bedding and pray. 

“Please-” He chanted softly, over and over.

“Soon.” Vesemir growled low, one hand tight on Jaskier’s hip. His thrusts grew sharper, more erratic, and then stilled. Jaskier choked on the breathless chant he was murmuring.

“W-what is-”

“You can take it-”

“Oh gods, fuck, no, how is it bigger-” Jaskier felt a brief, instinctive panic at the swelling at the base of Vesemir’s cock, animal instinct taking over as he squirmed to get away from the pressure, the stretch now bordering on true discomfort.

“You can take it.” Vesemir repeated, his body covering Jaskier’s, his arms tight around the bard’s waist, holding their hips flush together. "Just like I showed you.”

Jaskier  _ sobbed _ , lost in the sensation. His brain screamed  _ too much too much  _ as his cock wept, hot tears he couldn’t remember shedding streaking his cheeks. Geralt’s voice, hoarse and soft, suddenly broke through, making Jaskier gasp for air like a slap. “You’re doing so well for him,  _ Julek _ . The first knot’s the hardest to take. Just breathe through it.”

The pet name, murmured only in the soft, private moments before the sky lightened, spoke to an intimacy and a softness that left Jaskier languid and floating. There was nothing he could do but take what was given and revel in it. He let his breath out in a slow, shuddering exhale, and murmured Geralt’s name too low for anyone lacking a Witcher’s senses to hear. As Jaskier’s body struggled to relax and accept the deep, burning stretch, Vesemir made a low noise in his throat and surged forward.

“There you go. There- fuck,  _ good,  _ lad, you’re doing well. You think of him if it helps you through it.” Jaskier felt each pulse as molten, burning, and god, it didn’t  _ stop _ . He was flooded, full and wet and stretched so tight, held close and safe.

This must be what the Witchers were murmuring about when they spoke of him being  _ claimed _ .

“Geralt.” Vesemir laughed, husky and breathless. “All right, all right. You’re going to have a hand in this regardless. Come gentle your bard and give him his last one, we’re tied properly. He’ll like it better if it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, "Julek" is a Polish diminutive of "Julian."
> 
> Because we all deserve a tender moment in our smut filled daddy kink knotting droit du seigneur fic, don't we?


	4. Nearly Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God you’re going to sing so beautifully when I finally get my hands on you,” Geralt murmured, claiming Jaskier’s mouth for a rough kiss. He fucked Jaskier’s mouth slowly with his tongue, and Jaskier groaned greedily for it, pushing back into Vesemir’s hard cock. “Maybe one of them will fill your mouth-” Geralt continued, capturing Jaskier’s bottom lip between sharp teeth and tugging. “You won’t be empty anywhere-”
> 
> “Geralt, I’m gonna-” Jaskier gasped softly, unable to look away from Geralt’s eyes. His pupils were wide and dark, only the thinnest ring of gold around them.
> 
> “You said you didn’t know how to play a bitch in heat for a keep full of Witchers in rut.” Geralt purred, his fingers drifting slowly down Jaskier’s jaw. He rested his palm gently against Jaskier’s throat, fingers curling lightly around his neck. “But look at how fast you’re learning…you’re a fucking natural at it-”

Geralt was  _ there _ , hands gently cupping Jaskier’s face. He bent down to cover the bard’s lips with soft, barely there kisses. Contrasted with the intensity of what else was happening, it made Jaskier burn and push back for more. Geralt was murmuring low, and the words were fading in and out. Jaskier’s attention shifted between the man behind him, tied inescapably tight to his body, and the man in front of him, petting his hair with soft fingers. 

“- _ so  _ good,  _ Julek _ , I knew he’d take the best care of you. Look how good and sweet you’re being? Does the stretch still hurt, or do you like the way it feels? Your face is so red, but gods, so is your cock...”

“I said gentle him, not baby him.” Vesemir snapped with a soft laugh, moving his hips and pressing in deeper to remind Jaskier he was still there. Jaskier accepted the reminder with an open-mouthed moan. Vesemir shifted back, just enough for Jaskier to feel the swollen base of his cock tugging at his rim. And  _ that  _ was-

Was-

“ _ Fuck _ , I like it, I like it Geralt- Gods I like it so fucking much-”

“Yeah?” Geralt growled softly, letting his fingers tighten in Jaskier’s hair with a predatory grin. “Knew you would. Knew you’d be perfect.”

“Oh gods-” Jaskier whispered hoarsely, letting his head fall back into Geralt’s grip. 

“Can’t wait for the next one, can you?”

“Fuck, fuck-”

“You gonna sob on Lambert’s cock too, from how good it feels?” Geralt trailed a fingertip slowly down the tear tracks on Jaskier’s face. “Gonna use all those pretty pleases on Eskel until he takes you apart?” 

“Geralt-”

“God you’re going to sing so beautifully when I finally get my hands on you,” Geralt murmured, claiming Jaskier’s mouth for a rough kiss. He fucked Jaskier’s mouth slowly with his tongue, and Jaskier groaned greedily for it, pushing back into Vesemir’s hard cock. “Maybe one of them will fill your mouth-” Geralt continued, capturing Jaskier’s bottom lip between sharp teeth and tugging. “You won’t be empty  _ anywhere- _ ”

“Geralt, I’m gonna-” Jaskier gasped softly, unable to look away from Geralt’s eyes. His pupils were wide and dark, only the thinnest ring of gold around them.

“You said you didn’t know how to play a bitch in heat for a keep full of Witchers in rut.” Geralt purred, his fingers drifting slowly down Jaskier’s jaw. He rested his palm gently against Jaskier’s throat, fingers curling lightly around his neck. “But look at how fast you’re learning…you’re a fucking  _ natural _ at it-”

This time felt...different. The heat that had been building at the base of Jaskier’s spine slowly spread through his whole body. It spilled over in a breathless, wrenching series of pulses. Each spasm wracked through his muscles, making him cry out with each wave of pleasure. It went on and on, Jaskier’s wrung out body leaving him with nothing else to spill. He slumped forward, shivering, into Geralt’s waiting arms, his eyes heavy lidded as he trembled through aftershocks. 

“I’m done-” He breathed hoarsely, pressing his cheek into Geralt’s shoulder. “I’m done, I’m done-” 

“Shhh. Just a little more, then you can sleep. You did so well.” Geralt petted Jaskier slowly all over, listening to the rapid staccato beat of his heart. 

“Oh gods, oh gods-” Jaskier whispered, his body flooded with exhaustion.

“You just rest and breathe,” Geralt murmured quietly, soothingly running his fingers over Jaskier’s nape, tracing the damp curls of hair stuck to the back of his neck. “There you are. Close your eyes.”

Jaskier could hear Geralt and Vesemir speaking quietly after that, but the words made little sense. He drifted, floating in a pool of dark, warm pleasure, and let his body relax fully into Geralt’s arms. His breathing grew deep and steady.

Vesemir waited until Jaskier was calm and floating before he looked to Geralt, voice quiet but firm. “Get the others. He’ll have no peace unless we make it clear where things stand. Tonight.”

Geralt gave Jaskier one last, gentle hug, settling the bard carefully against the blankets with a pillow under his cheek. Jaskier made a soft, content sound, nuzzling into the pillow and not opening his eyes. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered against Jaskier’s damp hair.

* * *

Jaskier came back to his body slowly, with an exhausted groan. His legs were aching, and there was a tension in the small of his back that didn’t ease with shifting. His mouth was dry and tacky, his stomach and chest sticky with his own come. And oh  _ gods,  _ his ass- Vesemir was still buried deep, the thick stretch easing a little.

“...how...how long-” Jaskier mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“You dozed for a few minutes. Don’t worry, nearly done. We’ll get you cleaned up and you can sleep for a bit.” Strong fingers kneaded at the tight spot at the base of his spine, and Jaskier groaned appreciatively. “Just need to tell the others how the next week is going to go for you.” Jaskier made a wordless, questioning sound, then inhaled at the feeling of careful fingers testing his stretched rim. “Knot’ll go down soon enough, then you’ll have a hot drink and some rest. How are you feeling?”

“...f-full. Sir.” 

“Shh, lad. Don’t need to mind your manners so carefully with my knot in you.” 

“...so full, gods, it’s going to be a  _ mess _ when-”

“Let me worry about the mess. You just relax.” 

“...did Geralt leave?” Jaskier’s voice was small and quiet.

“Oh, no. Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just getting his brothers. That’s all. He’s very proud of you.” There was the warm press of Vesemir’s lips on the back of his neck. “Me too. Did very well.”

Jaskier began to shiver all over at the gentle touch, that loose, languid feeling freezing into something biting and vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have-”

“Hush. You did everything right. I thought you’d sleep a bit longer. That’s all. He’d never leave you like this.” Vesemir’s touch was firm and grounding, hands skimming over his sides, his back. “Little lark, he’s back. I can hear their footsteps in the hall. Just breathe.”

The heavy door creaked open, and Jaskier made a quiet, miserable sound of relief at the sound of three sets of boots on the stone floor. He couldn’t make himself raise his face from the pillow to look at the waiting trio.

“Smells like come and tears in here.” Lambert commented dryly. “Guess the old man still has it in him, huh?”

“Shut  _ up _ , Lambert.” Eskel snapped, voice sharp edged. Jaskier laughed weakly at the dull whap of a friendly smack to Lambert’s chest. “Have some consideration. Remember you weeping like a babe at  _ your _ first knot.”

“Hmph.”

“This is how it’s going to go.” Vesemir’s voice was icy calm, with the command of a man with years of experience gathering soldiers together. The Witchers bickering fell silent at his words. “This isn’t a usual winter. He wasn’t paid to be here, he’s not a visiting wolf seeking shelter, he chose to come to us. You’re all going to respect it, and treat him accordingly. I want no fighting, no scraps over his favors. It’s a long winter, and he’s a guest. Let him see to his needs, eat when he’s hungry, sleep when tired. He’s not some random bitch to be bred without pause until he can’t walk right. He’s a guest of your brother’s. So when you hear  _ no _ , you listen.” 

There were quiet murmurs of “Yes, sir.” from all three men. Even in his dazed state, Jaskier could recognize Geralt’s voice, and something tight in his chest loosened.

“He gets the rest of the night, and tomorrow until noon to rest. Eskel, you’ll take him tomorrow afternoon. Lambert, you’ll get your turn after he’s had another full night and morning of rest. If you break him the first week, it’s your own ass over the bench. I can promise you everything you do to him, I can do better and harder. Remember who you learned from.”

“Yes, Vesemir.” 

“Now. There’s no question I’ve claimed his first night, is there?” 

“No, sir.”

“I say Geralt watches each time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As for me, if he asks for me, I’ll take my turn. Otherwise, it’s up to you three to decide how to share him. Let’s get this part over with so the boy can rest.” Jaskier felt the brush of something soft against his shoulder. Warm fur stroked gently down his spine, dragging a quiet sound from his lips.

“Ah- what-”

“I’m going to pull out now.” Vesemir withdrew slowly and carefully, but even the gentle pull against such sensitive flesh had Jaskier gasping with it. His face burned with embarrassment and pride at the trickle of come he felt follow Vesemir’s cock. Jaskier made a soft sound of protest when he was fully empty, “There you are- don’t worry- you won’t be empty long.”

There was the press of something tapered, cold metal against his hole. Whatever it was slipped in easily to his stretched and waiting body. Jaskier clenched down against the narrower base, rubbing his forehead against the pillow. He felt the brush of that soft fur against the inside of his thigh. Jaskier  _ had _ to see, had to make himself look over his shoulder at what was pressed inside him. His mouth fell open in startled shock. A silver wolf’s tail, full and bushy and tipped with white, was wound around Vesmir’s fist. When he dropped it, Jaskier realized it was attached to the heavy metal plug inside him.

“Ah gods- that feels- that  _ looks like- _ ” 

“Hush lad, they all know.” Vesemir spared him a smile, then swiped a hand over his wet cock, rubbing the mess firmly into the skin of Jaskier’s thighs. He cleaned himself off with the nightshirt, tugged out from under Jaskier’s knees.

“If I don’t get  _ him _ for two nights, can I have the shirt?” Lambert drawled, raising an eyebrow at Jaskier. Jaskier flushed all over and dropped his eyes. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling anything but exhaustion, but a lick of warmth went through him at the thought anyway.

“You get the shirt. Eskel gets to help Geralt soothe his bard.” Vesemir agreed tersely.  


“Fuck- wait-”

“Too late, you made your claim. Enjoy your rag.” Eskel sounded far too pleased with the arrangement, drawing another exhausted laugh from Jaskier.

Vesemir patted Jaskier’s hip fondly. “Rest well, little wolf. Welcome to the pack. They’ll see you safely to bed.”

Jaskier was gathered up again into Geralt’s arms, cradled as though he were precious. If he’d had much mind left, he was sure there was a good song somewhere in being carried tenderly back to a Witcher’s bed like a delicate maiden. But what had happened was beyond songs. 

Jaskier let his head rest against Geralt’s chest, breathing in the scents of home and safety that came with Geralt’s warm skin, and slept in his arms.


	5. What Comes After | Whispers In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier opened his eyes slowly, shivering a little in the dark room. He was on his back on the bed, skin caressed by the warmth of a soft fur throw. Shifting, he could feel a clean towel underneath his hips. Jaskier rocked his hips slightly, making a soft sound at the plug still inside him. The feeling of fullness was going from comforting to overwhelming as his oversensitive body recovered from his busy evening.
> 
> “There you are.” Eskel said quietly, studying Jaskier’s face. “How are you feeling?”
> 
> “Geralt?” Jaskier asked, surprised at how soft and hoarse his voice was. The scarred corner of Eskel’s mouth twitched.
> 
> “Loyal pup, aren’t you?” He pressed a gentle hand to Jaskier’s forehead, then helped him turn his head. “He’s right here. Getting the room warmer for you.” Geralt was kneeling next to the fire, building it up carefully. He quickly glanced up at his name, but something in Eskel’s expression eased his own worry. “You all right making do with me?”
> 
> Jaskier gave Eskel a sleepy nod, sighing and resting his cheek into the touch. “I’m...sore. Everywhere.” His brow furrowed and he mumbled, his face heating. “...and the- when can I take the tail out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update folks, been a challenging couple of days.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left comments, they give me life. I'm overwhelmed at the reception this fic has gotten. <3 
> 
> You're all wonderful and valid. Thank you for your encouragement as I continue to write the filthiest fucking thing that's ever graced my hard drive.

Jaskier opened his eyes slowly, shivering a little in the dark room. He was on his back on the bed, skin caressed by the warmth of a soft fur throw. Shifting, he could feel a clean towel underneath his hips. Jaskier rocked his hips slightly, making a soft sound at the plug still inside him. The feeling of fullness was going from comforting to overwhelming as his oversensitive body recovered from his busy evening.

“There you are.” Eskel said quietly, studying Jaskier’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, surprised at how soft and hoarse his voice was. The scarred corner of Eskel’s mouth twitched.

“Loyal pup, aren’t you?” He pressed a gentle hand to Jaskier’s forehead, then helped him turn his head. “He’s right here. Getting the room warmer for you.” Geralt was kneeling next to the fire, building it up carefully. He quickly glanced up at his name, but something in Eskel’s expression eased his own worry. “You all right making do with me?”

Jaskier gave Eskel a sleepy nod, sighing and resting his cheek into the touch. “I’m...sore. Everywhere.” His brow furrowed and he mumbled, his face heating. “...and the- when can I take the tail out?”

“We’ll start with that.” Eskel said simply, beginning to move towards the end of the bed.

“Wait-” Jaskier choked out, biting his bottom lip. “No, it’ll- it’ll be a mess, and you’ll get it on- I should- I can do it.” 

“You think this is the first time I’ve gentled someone after they’ve taken a knot?” Eskel asked quietly. His fingers wrapped around the base of the tail, shifting it. "You want someone with steady hands and a firm grip. Neither of those describes you at the moment." Eskel stopped the gentle, assessing tugging. "Geralt could, if you'd rather."

“N-no, I don’t want to in front of Geralt.” Jaskier admitted in a breathless whisper. “...and I’m- I’m thirsty and- cold. Do I...do I not get clothes?”

“You’d ruin them tonight.” Eskel said practically with a half smile. "You're going to be dripping for a few hours. He bred you full."

"Oh  _ gods _ ." Jaskier felt that uncomfortable mixture of humiliation and arousal begin to stir. Eskel rested a hand on his belly, warm and possessive.

"Good thing Vesemir laid down the law. Knowing that you've never been fucked before, and now...here you are. You  _ only _ know what a wolf's cock feels like." He dragged his fingers slowly over Jaskier's stomach. "Lambert would have fought all of us for the chance to lick you open to eat you empty and pump you full again. No shame in being messy with our come. We all love the way it smells on you."

Jaskier's stretched and aching hole clenched around the metal plug, now warm from the heat of his body.

"I'm going to take this out now, and you're not gonna argue. Okay? Get you nice and settled down, then you'll sleep between both of us."

"Please, I can’t-"

"It'll feel better out. Then you can have something to drink, and I'll slick you with salve so you won't be so tender tomorrow. All right?" Jaskier hesitantly nodded, swallowing thickly. He closed his eyes tight and made a soft sound when the gentle tugging turned into a firm pull. 

“Ah-  _ gods- _ ”

“Just let go.” Jaskier cried out sharply as the plug slipped free, followed by a warm, slippery mix of seed and oil. He panted for breath, his face red as Eskel dragged his fingers through the mess. “Better get as much of it out as you can.” Eskel rubbed firmly at his oversensitive hole and Jaskier bit his lip, shaking his head. Jaskier clenched tightly, trying to keep as much of it inside as he could. “Don’t be stubborn.” Eskel chided quietly. “Unless you want to go down to breakfast with all this streaking your thighs.” Jaskier pressed his thighs tightly together, trapping Eskel’s hand, and shook his head again with a shaking breath. Eskel exhaled and shook his own head with a soft sigh. “Geralt? He’s being stubborn and nervy. Needs you.”

Geralt gently sat at the head of the bed, studying Jaskier’s features, his expression soft. “It’s all right,  _ Julek. _ Nothing to be ashamed of. Listen to Eskel.” His voice was firm, but soft, and he gently laced their fingers together. “Breathe and do as he says. It’s all right.” Jaskier let his legs fall open, bottom lip still pinned between his teeth. Geralt began to rub firm circles, low on Jaskier’s stomach, then bent to chuckle darkly in his ear. “You were so good, taking so much. Now all you have to do is  _ relax _ , and we’ll get you all cleaned up and taken care of. You like this. You want to show me how good you were for Vesemir, taking so much.”

“There we go.” Eskel murmured softly, voice warm with approval as Jaskier relaxed, squirming as Eskel rubbed a good part of the mess into his ass and thighs. “See, it’s not so bad. Just some seed, nothing filthy about that.” And then a warm, damp cloth was rubbing away the rest, and Jaskier melted into the bed with a soft sigh. “Needs a lot of reassurance.” Eskel commented softly to Geralt as he continued to pet Jaskier’s hair, murmuring sweet filth into his ear.

“He’s new to it all. He’s only here because he trusts me.”

“Wish all of us were so lucky.”

“He’ll trust you, too.” 

“Hm. Sit him up.” 

Geralt carefully arranged Jaskier so he was leaning back against his chest, warm arms wrapped possessively around his waist. “Something warm to drink, a little medicine, then you can sleep as much as you want. You’ll wake up clean and rested. Don’t fight this part, you need it.” Jaskier nodded languidly, his eyes already growing heavy.

A wooden cup was held to Jaskier’s lips, and he drank a slow sip. The tea tasted mostly of honey and herbs, but there was a bitter aftertaste that made him wrinkle his nose and turn his chin away. “ _ All of it. _ ” Geralt said firmly. Jaskier obeyed, feeling a languid, heavy warmth quickly creeping over him.

And oh, that was...wonderful. There was nothing to worry about, was there? He was fucked out and lazy, and the soreness in his ass felt just right. He smelled like sweat and come, and that was  _ good. _ He let his head tip back onto Geralt’s shoulder with a quiet, sated sigh.

Jaskier fell into that welcoming warm darkness, soft and comforting as a brush of fur on the inside of his thigh, and let it take him under.

* * *

Jaskier dreamed of being claimed again and again, moaning wantonly, begging for more. Being filled up and bred and praised. He smelled wet fur, woodsmoke, oil and come and sweat.

The sounds drifted through Jaskier’s dreams, bringing him half awake, thick and sweet as syrup. Quiet, heated whispers in the dark, next to him. Geralt’s arms were still around him, but his hands had tightened on his hips. Jaskier couldn’t open his eyes, but he really didn’t want to. In that hazy state, it might have been a dream as well.

_ "...walked into that room and could smell on you. You wished it'd been  _ you  _ on your knees in Vesemir's bed, coming til you cried." _

_ “Fuck, fuck-” _

_ “I’ll take care of that for you, but you need to be quiet. Don’t wake your human up.” _

_ “I can be quiet-” _

_ “You fucking well can’t and you know it.” _

A muffled moan, behind a thick palm.The slick sound of skin on skin, low grunts, hands grappling at bedclothes.

_ “Just a quick one, make sure you don’t spend in your pants when you see how I treat him tomorrow. You can think of this.” _

A low groan, the sound of agreement.

_ “Been waiting all year for this. Get into that tight ass of yours. No one else fucks like another wolf, do they?” _

Panting breath, a soft whimper.

_ “Bet you wish that pretty little human had a nice thick knot for you to squirm on like this. We all know what you really love is someone claiming you." _

A broken off cry, quickly stopped. 

_ “You don’t need to be gentled, do you, Geralt? You just need to be  _ taken. _ Know who you belong to. You’re all of ours.” _

_ “Hff- fk- hn-” _

_ “We’ll bind him to that bench in the main hall, a waiting hole for all of us, and while you fuck him, you’re gonna wish he’d said no, aren’t you?” _

_ “Ha- nff-” _

_ “Gonna wish- fuck- wish you were in his place- wearing our tails- getting bred ‘til you can’t hold it in- showing everyone what a good fucking slut you are for it-” _

_ “Ahh-  _ **_ahh_ ** _ -” _

_ “Shh, yeah, I know. I know. There you go. You hang onto that pretty human while you take my knot and come for me.” _

Jaskier felt something warm and wet against his bare hip, and then sleep claimed him again.

When he dreamed, he dreamed of Eskel.


	6. Between Eleven and Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finished his breakfast quickly. Left uncertain what else to do with himself, he sat back down on the bed. Eskel and Geralt acted the way he’d often seen soldiers snowed in pass a lazy winter morning. If they acted anything like normal soldiers, they’d while away the morning playing cards and dice. They’d probably open up a bottle once it was late enough in the day for drinking to be acceptable. 
> 
> Vesemir’s words drifted through his thoughts, and Jaskier wet dry lips. It was already past eleven. He had a sneaking suspicion he’d be the one opened instead of a bottle. The thought went straight to his cock, and he tugged the blanket over his lap in a bid for subtlety.

Jaskier awoke with a groan, knuckling sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand. The aches were gone from his body, and he felt for the most part well rested. His ass felt tender and well used, with a deep ache that he resolved to ignore as best he could. He scrubbed both hands down his face and sat up, blinking at Geralt and Eskel sitting at the room’s small table. He was naked, under the heavy covers. They were very much not naked, dressed for the day and quietly playing a card game. 

Jaskier had a brief moment of wondering if all of the events of the previous night had been a fever dream, brought on by too much of Kaer Morhen’s strong wine. The throb in his ass told a different, inescapable story.

“...morning. Er, is it morning? What time is it?” Jaskier fumbled for the small glass of water on the bedside table, drinking half of it in two large gulps. 

“Just past eleven. The bells woke you.” Eskel responded mildly, not looking up from his hand of cards.

“Right.” Jaskier managed, then inhaled deeply. “Good, yeah. Good. Missed breakfast, then?” 

“Mm. Brought up some fruit and sweet rolls for you.” Geralt looked Jaskier over with a fond smile, indicating the plate on the table. 

“...right. No point in being shy.” Jaskier climbed out of bed with a small wince. He was clean, at least. He resisted the urge to wrap himself in the thick fur throw at the foot of the bed, which appeared to have been remade around him.

“You sleep well?” Eskel asked, those same golden eyes studying Jaskier’s ginger movements.

“Had strange dreams.” Jaskier mumbled, grabbing an apple and biting into it without looking at Eskel.

Jaskier finished his breakfast quickly. Left uncertain what else to do with himself, he sat back down on the bed. Eskel and Geralt acted the way he’d often seen soldiers snowed in pass a lazy winter morning. If they acted anything like normal soldiers, they’d while away the morning playing cards and dice. They’d probably open up a bottle once it was late enough in the day for drinking to be acceptable. 

_ He gets the rest of the night, and tomorrow until noon to rest. Eskel, you’ll take him tomorrow afternoon.  _ Vesemir’s words drifted through his thoughts, and Jaskier wet dry lips. It was already past eleven. He had a sneaking suspicion he’d be the one opened instead of a bottle. The thought went straight to his cock, and he tugged the blanket over his lap in a bid for subtlety. 

“There’s no point being shy.” Eskel said, setting down his hand and looking directly at Jaskier. “We can both smell it on you.”

“Smell- smell what?” Jaskier tried to keep his voice steady and even. The sort of tone that easily charmed lingering kisses from sweet barmaids and farmer’s sons. He failed spectacularly, his voice breaking on the second word.

“Your cock is hard.” Eskel said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “How’s your hole?” 

“Gods, are you all just going to  _ say _ things like that?”

“What’s the point in dancing around it?” Eskel tossed a corked jar to Jaskier, who fumbled and caught it. “Salve. It’ll help the ache. And you’ll get a potion before I have my turn. We’ll go down to the bath once you’re able to walk without a limp. Don’t care what the others said, the second knot’s the hardest because you’re already aching.” 

“Right.” Jaskier turned the clay jar in his hands, uncorking it and sniffing it. It smelled heavily of herbs and solid oil, and that strange bitter tang underneath that indicated the particular alchemy of Witchers was also involved in its making. “...should I, were you going to...ah-” 

“Can’t put my hands on you ‘til noon, little lark.” Eskel held his hands up to demonstrate with a smirk. “And Vesemir said Geralt  _ watches. _ You’ll have to do it yourself.”

“Oh.” Jaskier scooped a small dollop of the salve onto his fingertip, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. It was sinfully slick, and made his skin feel cool where it touched. “Don’t suppose I could ask for...ah, a little privacy?” 

“Better not. You ever used a salve like that before?”

“I’ve never had a Witcher’s cock in my ass before.” Jaskier muttered, trying not to sound sulky. “What do you think?”

“I think if you don’t have someone tell you how to use it properly, you’ll get shy and skittish and wind up crying when I fuck you.” Eskel sighed and picked up his hand of cards again, meeting Geralt’s amused glance. “Ah, hells, you were winning anyway.” He said with fond disgust, pushing a small pile of coin towards Geralt. Eskel shuffled the cards, stacking them together with a decisive tap and setting them aside. 

Jaskier waited for Eskel to cross the room, but instead he simply turned his chair so it faced the bed, crossed his legs, and waited.

“Well? Get on with it.” Jaskier shifted to one side, raising his leg and reaching under his thigh, but was stopped short by Eskel’s soft chuckle. “On your back. Put your knees up and spread your legs wide.” Eskel stood up, grabbing his chair and then sitting it down a scant foot away from the bed. “Apparently, you need closer supervision.”

Jaskier glanced over at Geralt, who was watching with a heated gaze, pupils already gone wide and dark. “Listen to Eskel,” he husked roughly, as he swept the coins into a small pouch. 

Jaskier obeyed, feeling a blush creep up his chest and neck. He rested his head back against the covers, digging his heels into the edge of the bed. That squirming, embarrassed arousal was back, stronger than before.

“Gods, you love this, don’t you? Look at that sweet little prick, getting hard on showing off for me.” Eskel asked quietly, and Jaskier closed his eyes with a soft sound. “Put more salve on your fingers, and rub outside. Go slow.”

Jaskier stroked two fingers over his hole, his mouth falling open in surprise at just how good the salve and touch felt. It felt like stroking soothing balm over burnt skin, easing the ache and soreness at the first touch. Leaving him...wanting. He raised his hips slightly, exhaling with a soft sigh. “...oh.”

“Yeah.” Eskel agreed, voice low. “Nice stuff, isn’t it? Try getting some of that inside you.”

“Inside.” Jaskier agreed breathlessly, then groaned as he pressed one fingertip inside, stroking gently. His own touch felt so different from Vesemir’s- he wasn’t experienced enough to be as controlled, or as careful. He sucked in a sharp breath after pressing in a little too quickly. He moaned softly at the feeling of his own body clutching tight and hot around his fingertip. He soon moaned louder as the burn was quickly replaced by that soothing, tingling slickness.

“That sore little hole still looks so tight, even after taking daddy Vesemir’s big cock.” And god,  _ that _ was a filthy sentence. Jaskier jerked his hand away, face red, and looked at Eskel in horrified shock. “Feeling shy again?” Eskel teased quietly. “He’s the closest thing any of us have to a father, and we all got to see him balls deep in you with you squirming on his knot. Calling him ‘daddy’ shouldn’t make you blush. Especially not with three of us left to take.” Eskel’s tone grew softer, coaxing. “Get more of that on your fingers, and use two.” 

“Gods, but-”

“ _ Two. _ ” Eskel commanded firmly. Jaskier could hear Geralt shifting in his chair, and the Witcher’s soft, indrawn breath. “Just trust that I know what you need better than you do today.” Jaskier slicked his fingers with more salve, then slid them in.

Gods it was...too much, and not nearly enough. Jaskier’s eyes shut as he stroked his fingers slowly in and out, feeling his body open readily at the touch. He wondered- if he could get deeper, angle his fingers- would he find that spot that Vesemir had ground against so relentlessly? He made soft sounds, hips moving against his own touch, and tried to change the angle slightly. Searching, probing, moving deeper-

Eskel tsked softly. “You wait for twelve bells for that. Get some of that slick on your cock, too. But you wait for me to come.” 

“Gods  _ fuck-  _ I don’t know if I- if i can-”

“Yeah, Geralt mentioned you were a quick shot. So many ways to have fun with that.”Eskel’s scarred mouth curled into a fond smile. “You ever had Axii used on you, little bard? Not that you’d remember…”

“Axii?” Jaskier exhaled, resuming the slow stroking that was quickly lighting fires under his skin. He was rocking his hips greedily now, the salve leaving him feeling so open, and so very empty. “Is that some kind of…” He searched his brain, trying to remember anything but the way Vesemir’s fingers had felt, sliding inside along his cock, rubbing and opening him wider. His flushed and eager cock pulsed at the memory, leaving a smear of wetness on his belly.

“I suppose I could show you.” Eskel said, in the tone of someone about to grant a favor. “It would make things much easier for you.”

“Uh- well- all right. Just a little, though.” Jaskier decided this was the prudent answer. If it was a drink, a potion, or a balm, trying a small amount and then waiting would be the best course of action. 

“Just a little.” Eskel said with a soft laugh, and made a deliberate gesture with his hand. 

Something...changed.

Jaskier’s mind silenced, and he was left with a feeling of empty calm. If he’d been able to form thoughts, it might have felt like Eskel had rubbed that balm into every corner of his mind. Leaving him empty, tingling, and waiting. 

Waiting for what?

“You’re so relaxed, aren’t you?” Eskel prompted softly. “Almost sleepy. Not feeling tense at all. It feels so good, being so relaxed. Letting me take care of you while Geralt watches.” That was true. The bed was so soft, and the room felt warm and cozy. Geralt was there. And Eskel had his best intentions at heart.

“Yes.” Jaskier murmured under his breath, slowly blinking heavy lidded eyes.

“Good. That’s it. Why don’t you slick up and add a third finger, Jaskier? I bet that would feel nice.” 

“Nice.” Jaskier echoed, feeling his hand move without consciously deciding to do it.

“See how deep you can get those fingers for me. Then spread yourself wide so I can see how much you want it to be me instead.” 

“Ah-” Jaskier moaned softly as he obeyed, holding himself spread open on glistening fingertips that were sure and not shaky. “I want it-” He murmured, the words lazy and patient. He didn’t have to beg frantically. He was so relaxed. And obeying Eskel felt  _ so _ good.

“You look so tight. My knot won’t fit in there, will it?” Jaskier felt his body clutch tightly around his fingers, and he stilled his hand with a desperate whimper.

“Won’t...won’t fit.” He shook his head, voice breathless.

“Don’t worry, Jaskier. I’ll make sure it does.” Eskel’s voice was warm and amused, and he moved his hand again.

Jaskier gasped in shock as his mind rushed back, suddenly painfully aware of holding himself open for Eskel’s scrutiny. His hole spasmed against his intruding fingers and he let out a choked gasp, easing the stretch with a breathless pant. 

“What- what the fuck was  _ that _ ?” He stared at Eskel with wide eyes.

“Axii.” Eskel said with a smirk, making the gesture without the power behind it. Jaskier began to tremble, arching his back and closing his eyes. 

“Fuck. You could make me do anything.  _ Anything. _ And I’d love it while you did?” 

“If I told you to love it, yeah.”

“That’s fucking terrifying.” Jaskier’s voice was heady with wanton appreciation. “Do it again.” 

Eskel laughed warmly as the bells struck twelve, and cast Axii again.


	7. Axii, White Gull, and A Warm Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You feel so good you could almost come now, don’t you?” The barest push of suggestion, and Jaskier was certain of it. The pleasure was just there, burning low in his stomach and waiting. For a touch, for a look. For a word.
> 
> “Almost-” Jaskier begged with the word.
> 
> “But you won’t.”
> 
> “...won’t.” He sobbed out. The pleasure was so much, too much, but not enough. Just barely.
> 
> “Not until I tell you to come for me. Now, it’s time for your potion.” Eskel slowly passed a square glass flask full of clear liquid back and forth in front of Jaskier’s heavy lidded and unfocused eyes.
> 
> “Potion?” Jaskier tried to put enough of a question into the word. Eskel removed the cork and poured a small measure of it over his fingers, then said gently, “There you are. Lick that up.”

Jaskier was plunged into a pool of warmth as Eskel’s magic washed over him, leaving his body heated and loose. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered softly, sinking into the bed. 

“Want you to be honest with me, Jaskier, then you can relax.” Eskel said softly, his voice low and rough.

“Honest.” Jaskier echoed, feeling that thawing tingling spreading through his limbs. “Yes.”

“What do you think of me?” Jaskier was already too far gone to notice the tinge of nerves around the edges of the question.

“God, you are so fucking hot.” Jaskier felt the words leave his mouth regardless of how he tried to keep them in. “Last night I heard- heard you fucking Geralt. I want you to fuck me like that.” 

“Yeah?” Eskel growled low. “You want me to make you feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes, please. Already feel so good.” It was like speaking through a mouthful of warm honey, thick and sweet.

“You’re going to feel even better soon.” Eskel’s tone grew soothing and another wave passed over Jaskier. “Just relax.” 

“Mm. Good,” Jaskier sighed.

“I’m going to make you feel the best you’ve ever felt. Better than taking daddy’s knot. So much better than that. All you have to do is relax like this.”

“Better.  _ Yes _ .”

“So much better. In fact, you feel so good you could almost come now, don’t you?” The barest push of suggestion, and Jaskier was certain of it. The pleasure was just  _ there _ , burning low in his stomach and  _ waiting.  _ For a touch, for a look. For a word.

“Almost-” Jaskier begged with the word.

“But you won’t.”

“...won’t.” He sobbed out. The pleasure was so much, too much, but not enough. Just barely.

“Not until I tell you to come for me. Now, it’s time for your potion.” Eskel slowly passed a square glass flask full of clear liquid back and forth in front of Jaskier’s heavy lidded and unfocused eyes.

“Potion?” Jaskier tried to put enough of a question into the word. Eskel removed the cork and poured a small measure of it over his fingers, then said gently, “There you are. Lick that up.”

It tasted like clear strong alcohol layered with an earthy herbal edge. There was something sharp and bittersweet to the flavor, like unripe cherries. The liquid sat thick and oily on his tongue, and Jaskier swallowed it back with a gasp. It traveled down his throat like liquid flame. 

“Really, Eskel? White gull.” Geralt grumbled softly. “Of course he’s going to think your cock’s the best thing he’s ever felt.”

Jaskier was too busy watching the candles begin to throw rainbows around each point of light. Each shadow that danced over the walls was a fascinating pattern of movement. Eskel and Geralt’s voices felt like a caress over every inch of his skin.

“If you want a swallow of that and ride me high on Axii tonight, pick him up and carry him to the baths. His legs won’t support him.” 

“Fine. You’re still an asshole.” Jaskier was hefted over Geralt’s shoulder. His stomach pressed against the muscles, and that simple touch sent radiant, rainbow edged heat coiling through his whole body. “Don’t forget the tail.”

Jaskier lost all sense of time at those words, floating in a daze from the potion and Axii’s effect.

* * *

He came back to himself chest deep in warm water, his head tucked under Eskel’s chin. Strong arms were around his waist, pinning him in place and holding him steady. Jaskier was suddenly very aware of a thick, long cock buried to the hilt in his ass. After Eskel’s cock and the throbbing of his own neglected prick, the smell of a natural hot spring rich with sulphur and mineral salts was a distant third sensation.

Eskel’s cock was definitely longer than Vesemir’s, but not quite as thick. The girth was still impressive, spreading him open wide. Jaskier cried hoarsely as full awareness of the sensation hit. The candles in the room were still shimmering, flames dancing in colors he knew they usually didn’t. Every gentle shift of Eskel’s hips made him see sparks of brilliant color drifting through the air in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, there you go.” Eskel wasn’t thrusting, simply sitting back and enjoying the warm water and the body in his arms. He rubbed firmly at Jaskier’s lower back, pressing them closer together.

“Oh  _ gods _ -” Jaskier groaned hoarsely, squirming and trying to rock his hips. To get more of that brilliant sensation. He could feel Eskel’s cock in his throat. The warm steam felt like invisible hands, stroking all over his skin. A bead of sweat traveled from the nape of his neck down to the cleft of his ass. Jaskier was minutely aware of the glowing path it left. He clenched down around Eskel’s cock just to see spirals of golden light swirl around his shoulders.

“Shh, just relax. We’re just having a nice bath. All you have to do is keep my cock warm and enjoy the pretty colors. Don’t move.” 

“ _ Please- please- _ ” Jaskier’s voice was hoarse - how long had he been begging? There were soft edged memories just out of reach. Sucking on Eskel’s fingers, kneeling on all fours on the cold stone with Eskel’s tongue pushing inside his hole, nimble and filthy. Getting so close to orgasm only to feel it retreat again and again. Eskel’s lips, Eskel’s tongue, Eskel’s fingers wrapped tightly around his prick, jerking fast and hard just to hear him whimper and beg for release he wouldn’t grant.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? I know. But you can’t come, and I don’t want you to move.”

“You could cast Axii again.” Geralt pointed out from across the pool of steaming water, arms spread out over the stone. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eskel asked, gently rocking his hips and making Jaskier sob and shudder. “Anyway, he loves it.” Eskel’s hand slipped under Jaskier’s chin, forcing him to raise his face. “Right, pretty bard? You want this?” 

“Yes,  _ yes _ ! Please fuck me.  _ Please _ .” Jaskier whispered, his face hot with embarrassment. He buried his face in the crook of Eskel’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“No, not yet.” Eskel’s fingers tightened on his chin. “Not interrupting my conversation with Geralt to make you come.”

“Please-” Jaskier murmured feverishly, wrapping his knees tighter around Eskel’s hips.

“Shh.” Eskel gently stroked a hand down Jaskier’s back, letting him rut uselessly for a few moments before gripping his hips and holding him still. “You’re mine. Tell me you’re mine.” Without Axii Jaskier  _ could _ have resisted, but the words fell from his lips anyway, eager and easy.

“Yours, yours-”

“ _ Mine. _ ” Geralt growled low, and Jaskier heard a soft splash as he moved. 

“You stay where you are.” Eskel’s voice had a growling bite to it as he snapped his teeth in Geralt’s direction. “He’s  _ mine _ today.” Eskel rolled his hips slowly, driving his cock deeper into Jaskier’s ass. “Isn’t that right?” He murmured low in Jaskier’s ear, nipping sharply at his throat. Jaskier couldn’t help a glance over his shoulder, watching Geralt frozen mid-movement. His pupils were wide in the dim light, a flush over the Witcher’s pale skin.

“No, you look at me.” Eskel gripped Jaskier’s chin and forced his face back, his pupils so wide and dark there was hardly any gold left around them.“Say it.”

“Yours today, yours, yours, yours-” Jaskier panted. Although Eskel’s voice was calm and unaffected, he could feel the Witcher’s thick cock twitch at his frantic words.

“Yeah. You’re mine.” Eskel claimed his mouth for a bruising kiss, and Jaskier realized his body already recognized the touch. His mouth was swollen and sore, and he burned at the thought of what he’d been doing while he’d been floating on Axii and white gull. “Which means you’re gonna do what I say, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jaskier exhaled the word, biting back a soft sound as Eskel wrapped one hand around his cock. 

“There you go. Just touching you a little. You’re not gonna come ‘til I say. You  _ can’t,  _ can you? So you just relax against me and keep my cock nice and warm and hard until I decide I want to fuck you. Gonna make Geralt so jealous of your tight little hole, aren’t we?” 

“I want- I want your  _ knot _ \- I want you to fill me up, spread me wide-” Jaskier was rambling, hoping his words would spur Eskel into action.

“You’re gonna get it. I’m gonna hold you open after so you can show Geralt just how much you took. He’s gonna watch and  _ burn  _ for a taste of my come dripping out of you.” Eskel was pressing soft kisses to the line of Jaskier’s throat, sucking dark bruises onto his skin. “Rubbed my cock all over your throat and behind your ears. Between your shoulder blades. When it’s Lambert’s turn, he’s going to fucking ruin you. Because all he’ll be able to smell is me, and how greedy you were for it.” 

“W-what will Geralt do?” Jaskier nosed at the back of Eskel’s ear, pressing soft kisses over his pulse. 

“I’m going to beat Lambert and Eskel within an inch of their lives for marking you before I could.” Geralt growled softly. Eskel ignored his outburst, taking the time to close his teeth over Jaskier’s pulse and  _ suck _ until Jaskier’s hips were moving again.

“Oh, we’re going to strap you to a special bench in the main hall, and we’re all going to take a turn with you first. With enough candles that the hall will blaze with light. Everyone’ll get a good fucking look at that greedy hole of yours. He’s going to watch. When we finally let him have you...oh, sweet little bard, you’re going to fucking love it. We’ll have gotten you so fucking ready you’ll cry with happiness.” 

“Eskel-” Jaskier breathed, and  _ that _ accomplished what pleading and begging hadn’t. Eskel’s hands gripped his hips tightly, and he shoved forward with a low growl. 

“Fucking greedy for it, aren’t you?” Jaskier moaned loudly at the feel of every thick inch driving deeply inside him.

“Can’t- can’t help it- you feel so fucking good-” Jaskier tried to meet Eskel’s thrusts, and was rewarded with a low laugh for his trouble.

“Let me.” He murmured near Jaskier’s ear. “Let me, I’m gonna make it so good for you. You just tell me and Geralt how good it feels. That’s all you have to do.”

Jaskier was nothing if not eager to please. He tipped his head back, letting his mouth fall open wetly as Eskel raised and lowered him on his cock. Eskel’s large hands were wrapped tightly around his thighs, and Jaskier felt like a toy in his grip. 

“Geralt-” Jaskier moaned, hearing the splash of water and a ragged inhale of breath. “Oh, fuck, Geralt, how can you stand not having this-”

“Oh, that’s good-” Eskel growled in his ear. Jaskier felt that sharp edged smile against his pulse. “Keep talking.”

“He’s so fucking gorgeous, and his cock- his cock matches. It’s fucking  _ perfect- _ ” Eskel let Jaskier drop onto the full length and thrust up, drawing a ragged cry from Jaskier. “Oh fucking  _ gods _ I’m never going to want anything else, please-”

“You’re fucking  _ sweet _ when you sing for me.” Eskel’s thrusts grew harder and sharper. Jaskier had no idea how long Eskel had been waiting for Jaskier’s mind to clear. From the sound of his control falling apart, it had clearly been long enough. “Gonna make all your words go away soon, though.” Jaskier wrapped his arms tighter around Eskel’s broad shoulders and buried his face against the crook of his neck. He inhaled the Witcher’s scent deeply, letting out a breathy sigh against his skin.

“Yeah?” Jaskier whispered, eager and filthy. “You gonna- hff-  _ fuck _ , there, please, there there-”

“Here?” Eskel teased, driving in relentlessly at an angle that made Jaskier see stars behind his eyelids. “Just like this?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah- gods, you’re an  _ artist- _ ” Eskel laughed at that, snapping his hips. He pressed up roughly at the same time as he pulled Jaskier’s body down into the thrust. Jaskier cried out sharply, rocking his hips to accept everything Eskel had to give. “No fucking wonder he had to cover your mouth, Geralt- I’m gonna scream so loud the whole keep will hear it when I  _ come _ -”

Geralt made a low, frustrated sound, and Eskel laughed warmly again. 

“Go on, then. Use your hand and get off while I knot your sweet little bard. You can come listening to him beg me for more.” At the same time Geralt growled his agreement, Eskel met Jaskier’s eyes with a slow grin. He took one hand off Jaskier’s hip, sketching the now familiar sign. “Jaskier?  _ Remember. Everything. _ ”

The memories were suddenly sharp and bright as they came back in a flood.

* * *

_ Eskel’s fingers, shiny with salve, coring him open deep. Twisting, pressing, bringing him right to the edge. Jaskier begging wordlessly, high out of his mind on white gull and Axii as Eskel said “Not yet-” and he dissolved into tears. _

_ Geralt’s tongue, soft and wet, licking up the salt on each of his cheeks, low, filthy murmurs about how good he was going to be for Eskel. _

_ “You just watch. He’s so fucking good at this.” Eskel’s thick cock moving in and out of Geralt’s mouth, inches away from his face, and Jaskier begging to please be the one to try, please- _

_ Eskel’s lips. _

_ Eskel’s tongue. _

_ Eskel’s fingers. _

_ Eskel’s cock, sliding into him, painfully slowly, the stretch so, so perfect as Eskel held him close. _

_ “You just keep that warm for me. Sleep. Forget.”   
_

* * *

“Oh fucking  _ gods- _ ” Jaskier gasped, staring into Eskel’s eyes. His scarred face lit up in a feral grin as he let the sign go. “How are you so  _ perfect _ ?” Eskel’s pupils were wide and dark.

“I’m gonna come in you.” Eskel growled. “Make sure Geralt knows how good it feels, yeah?” Then Eskel thrust in as deep as he could go, arms tight enough around Jaskier’s shoulders to bruise as he came with a dark snarl of “Fuck, yes, right fucking there, right in your tight fucking hole-”

Eskel emptied into him, pulse after pulse of searing heat flooding him. Jaskier could feel some of it trickling down Eskel’s shaft before the base of his cock began to thicken and swell inside him. “Keep your eyes on mine.” Eskel said roughly, holding Jaskier’s gaze with his own. “I wanna see your face.” 

It was nothing like Vesemir’s knot. 

This time, Jaskier knew what was coming, and had an idea of what to do. 

It didn’t help much.

He was open and ready, but not nearly as open as he’d been the first time. The stretch was familiar, burning and so full. It danced over that line between pleasure and pain, and the colors shifting in the candle flames were red, and red, and red. He bore down, tried to make his body open for it, accept the thick stretch, not to pull away or squirm.

Jaskier breathed raggedly, eyes locked on Eskel’s, as he tried to open his legs wider. Making room where there was none. “Oh fuck, I can’t-” He panted, pressing his forehead to Eskel’s. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s so much.” 

“You can.” Eskel murmured, warm and pleased. He stood up out of the water, and Jaskier howled at the feeling of that thick knot sliding deeper inside him. “We’re gonna show him how much you  _ can _ .” Eskel’s hands were under Jaskier’s hips, supporting him. “Come get a good look, Geralt.” He murmured, fingers tight on Jaskier’s cheeks, holding him apart so Geralt could see. 

“Oh fuck, please- please- I- I can’t-” Jaskier murmured feverishly as Eskel’s knot tugged at his rim. The stretch made his mouth go dry- surely Eskel wouldn’t drag that thickness out of him for Geralt’s benefit, only to shove it back in. 

“Shhh. It’s staying in. Just showing him how sweet you’re opening up for me. How much you love it.”

“ _ Geralt- _ ” Jaskier cried out sharply, the word tinged with panic. “Look, please look, just fucking- tell him you see so- please- it’s so much-” His hands were tight on Eskel’s shoulders, and he heard a low, shaky groan. 

“Don’t worry, little lark. He saw. Came all over himself at the sight.” Eskel lowered him back down until their hips were flush, and Jaskier buried his face in Eskel’s neck with an exhausted sigh. “Ready for your turn?”

The words didn’t make sense. What else could he possibly give? 

Eskel stroked soothing fingers over the nape of Jaskier’s neck with a soft laugh, settling again on the edge of the pool, the warm water surrounding both of them. 

“Come for me.” Eskel murmured, and those words were hot and heavy with power.

Jaskier’s spine bowed and he screamed with the pleasure of it, dozens of denials suddenly, immediately fulfilled. His hole clutched at the thick knot stuffing him full, stretching him wide.

He barely was able to catch his breath before Eskel was growling, “Again. Come for me.”

This time felt like being plunged into the searing water of the bath, his whole body engulfed as he rode waves of pleasure. Jaskier was aware that he was arching, bucking, twisting in Eskel’s grasp, but only barely. His world had narrowed down to the thick length spearing him, Eskel’s firm hands, and his dark voice.

Before those waves had a chance to retreat into aftershocks, Eskel was commanding him again.

And again.

And again.

Jaskier clung to Eskel, boneless and wanton as his body obeyed.

Again, and again, and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The effects of White Gull are unabashedly inspired from the fic [The Trial of The Linens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638268/chapters/49008272). As always, mind the tags and be good to yourself!


	8. Tears, Laughter, Breathless Moans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier was crying silently with lips pressed together and teeth clenched tight, his face buried in Eskel’s neck. Wrung out and boneless, he could do little more than tremble in Eskel’s arms. If the sound of the bard’s muffled, hitched breaths didn’t give him away, the scent of tears and distress against his skin certainly did.
> 
> “Jaskier?” Eskel murmured softly, pressing his face to damp brown curls. “Hey.” He slowly ran a hand up and down the soft, unscarred skin of Jaskier’s back. “Hey.”
> 
> A snuffled, shaky inhale was his reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I thought this Friday could use a little fluff, a little filth, and a little crying bard.
> 
> Plus, it's never one of my fics without tender aftercare and laughing during sex.
> 
> I see you all begging for Geralt to get his turn, and he will, I promise. (After Lambert has his, so like...3-4 more chapters.)
> 
> [fills mug with reader tears, sips slowly] Your comments please me and give me life in this trying time. And yes, I am shamelessly stealing the "what if..." ideas you leave me. You're my beautiful, filthy darlings and you're all valid.

Jaskier was crying silently with lips pressed together and teeth clenched tight, his face buried in Eskel’s neck. Wrung out and boneless, he could do little more than tremble in Eskel’s arms. If the sound of the bard’s muffled, hitched breaths didn’t give him away, the scent of tears and distress against his skin certainly did.

“Jaskier?” Eskel murmured softly, pressing his face to damp brown curls. “Hey.” He slowly ran a hand up and down the soft, unscarred skin of Jaskier’s back. “Hey.”

A snuffled, shaky inhale was his reply. 

“Lot of feeling intense all at once, huh? Then it just stops. Hey, take a breath.” Jaskier obeyed, inhaling shakily and then exhaling with a shuddering sigh. “Happens to us, too. After good sex, hard fights sometimes. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

“Geralt, don’t-” Jaskier whispered, wrapping his arms around Eskel’s shoulders and pressing in closer. “-don’t beat them.”

“What was that?” Geralt said, puzzled. He rested one hand softly between Jaskier’s shoulder blades. The other he placed deliberately over Eskel’s palm at the small of Jaskier’s back, pressing Eskel’s touch closer. Jaskier took another shaking breath.

“For marking me first.” Eskel and Geralt exchanged a look over Jaskier’s head, and Geralt sighed fondly and moved his hands, slowly twining his fingers in the bard’s soft hair.

“No. I wouldn’t. I was being fierce, that’s all. All growl, no teeth.” He stroked his thumbs in circles at the nape of Jaskier’s neck. He tightened his grip, gently pulling Jaskier’s head back to expose his throat. Eskel pressed a soft kiss over the darkest mark. 

“If you were angry with them, you’d be angry with me for letting them.” Jaskier said simply, voice thick with exhaustion. “I’m- I’m trying so hard to do this right for you.” He shifted, trying to move off Eskel’s lap despite the knot still tying their bodies close. Eskel tightened his arms slightly around Jaskier’s waist. "It feels good, but it doesn't feel good if you're angry about it. Then it's just-" The bard's words were picking up speed, the scent of his distress growing stronger.

“Hey, easy. Easy,” he said softly, running the broad flat of his free hand up and down Jaskier’s thigh and hip. “Settle, pretty bard. Settle. No one’s angry. Geralt?”

“I’m not angry. I swear it.” Geralt pressed as much of the front of his body as he could against Jaskier’s back where he rested with his limbs entwined with Eskel’s. Geralt deliberately laid a soft, loving kiss against the livid bite barks beginning to blossom on Jaskier’s neck. “I love all the gifts they’re giving you.”

“Of course you’d choose to turn poet when I’m speared on your brother’s cock and crying.” Jaskier laughed softly, nosing behind Eskel’s ear.

“Knew it’d make you laugh. Laughter’s better than tears.” Geralt hugged them both close, breathing slowly and steadily until Jaskier calmed. As the scent of tears and distress lessened, Geralt slid his fingers between Eskel and Jaskier’s joined bodies. He slowly began rubbing at Jaskier’s sensitive rim and the base of Eskel’s knot. “I love it. Seeing how good they are with you. How good you are with them. You all learning to trust each other. I’m learning what you like.” Geralt pressed against the taut skin with his fingertips, making Jaskier moan and Eskel exhale softly. “You liked Vesemir’s calm control, didn’t you? He’s a good teacher. Always has a plan.” He murmured the words with the barest edge of a pleased growl.

“Gods, he was-” Jaskier gasped a shocked laugh against Eskel’s skin, fingers tightening on his shoulders. "Surprising."

“And Eskel- there’s nothing not to like about Eskel, is there?” Geralt teased the edge of his thumb over Eskel’s balls, earning a pleased groan. "He's so sweet to you."

“Sweetly and filthily tortures you with pleasure, until you beg because you can't take it another second.” Eskel could hear the warm smile in Jaskier’s voice, and feel teeth against his throat. “And gentles you like you’re a skittish animal he wants to tame.”

“Yeah,” Geralt agreed with obvious pleasure. “Any more tears, or are you smiling again? Still seeing rainbows, _Julek_?”

“Not so much…” Jaskier groaned when Eskel rocked his hips deeper, working his knot deeper into his aching hole. “Everything’s...bright. Sharp edged. Head hurts a little.”

“Probably the combination of White Gull and the heat. We’ll get you some cool water and some fruit soon.”

“Yes-” Jaskier sighed, although neither Witcher was sure if it was from the promise of rest and refreshment, or the angle of Eskel’s hips. 

“Gods, I could go again with Geralt holding us-” Eskel growled next to Jaskier’s ear. “I’d much rather have you crying on my cock because you’re so damn happy about it.” 

“Yeah-” Jaskier breathed, letting his head fall back against Geralt’s shoulder. “I’d like to come because you earned it, not because you told me to,” he added with a wicked grin. “Come on, wolf. Tie me tighter if you can.” 

“The fucking mouth on _you_ -” Eskel snarled, and Jaskier laughed with eager pleasure. He pinned Eskel’s hips with his knees and thighs, getting purchase on the stone bench Eskel was seated on.

Jaskier rolled his hips, moving up and down on Eskel’s hard cock, trying an experimental squeeze and grinning at the resulting look on his face. “I think I’ve heard that before.” Jaskier said thoughtfully, capturing Eskel’s mouth for a sloppy, hungry kiss. 

Geralt reached around Jaskier’s waist, slowly running his hands up and down Eskel’s sides. “Vesemir noticed that too, you know.” Geralt groaned low in his throat as Jaskier arched back none too subtly, rubbing the slick cleft of his ass against his cock.

“Oh, _did he-_ ” Eskel groaned. “Fuck, squeeze like that again. Feels like you’re milking my knot.” 

“Yeah? Think you’ve got more to give me?” Jaskier asked, sweet and wicked. “You wrung me dry, Witcher. My turn to do the same to you?”

“You _wicked_ little thing. Gonna shut you up.” Eskel purred, licking into Jaskier’s mouth for a greedy kiss. Jaskier broke it first, nipping sharply at Eskel’s bottom lip. 

“Should ask Geralt. I _never_ shut up.” Jaskier murmured, sliding up and down in lazy movements that made them both gasp. “Gods, I like this.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. You’re so fucking- hff- _long_ . Feels like I’m never gonna reach the end of you.” Jaskier gasped raggedly as one ambitious stroke took him up too far, Eskel’s softening knot slipping free with a sudden pop he felt beneath his eyes. “Oh, fucking _gods-_ ” He choked out, freezing with a full body shudder. “Oh gods, I didn’t know you could _do_ that.” 

“That’s an advanced lesson.” Eskel said with a husky laugh, holding Jaskier’s hips tight at the gush of seed and oil leaking down over his balls. “When it’s gone down a bit like this, if you’re open enough…yeah. I can do that more. You like that?”

“I- hard to say-” Jaskier’s brow furrowed as he laughed breathlessly, slowly beginning to move again on the slick curve of Eskel’s cock above his knot. “...wasn’t ready for it.” 

“Want Geralt to slip a finger or two in, open you up more for it? Work my knot in and out of you until you scream for me?” Geralt’s hand was teasingly there between their bodies again, the mess of slick and come washing away in the warm water of the bath. Eskel rocked up slightly, pressing his knot against Geralt’s fingers. Geralt gripped Eskel's knot firmly and squeezed and Eskel made a filthy sound in return.

“...ahh- I- maybe?” Jaskier managed, moaning loudly as Geralt’s fingers teased his stretched rim. “Oh fuck. That’s not- that’s not breaking a secret set of Witcher rules for deflowering bards, is it?” 

“Fuck the rules.” Geralt murmured, biting at Jaskier’s earlobe sharply.

“He just can’t come on you, or in you, until we’ve all had a taste first.” Eskel managed, groaning and pressing up more firmly into Geralt’s touch. “No rule says he can’t help.”

“Oh, that’s goo- oh fucking _gods-_ ” Jaskier winced and sucked in a sharp breath as Geralt’s hand wrapped firmly around his oversensitive cock. “Oh, fucking- give me a _minute,_ won’t you-” He groaned, voice warm with laughter. “I honestly don’t know if I’ve got another one in me.”

“That’s fine.” Eskel said, smiling against Jaskier’s neck and rocking slowly into him. “You mind if I…”

“Fuck, please, just don’t expect to get water from a dry well.” Jaskier said with a smirk. 

“I think you’ve got one more left. You had some time to rest. Good thing we’re in the water, or my stomach would be covered with your come. All slick, and messy...your cock’s a pretty little thing, pumping out load after load for me on command...”

“And you say _I’ve_ got a mouth…” Jaskier trailed off, then cursed and prayed colorfully as Geralt slipped a finger in alongside Eskel's length. "Tits and a beard on every fucking _God_ Geralt, you're both going to kill me."

"Shh. Just enjoy, _Julek_. Let the gods worry about themselves while you focus on this." He changed the angle of his finger slightly and Jaskier's words abruptly cut off. 

"You'll need it for the games Lambert likes to play." Eskel purred breathlessly, steadily moving out as Geralt pressed his finger in. "You're going to have so much fun."

"Yeah?" Jaskier panted, tightening his knees around Eskel's hips and grinding his cock against Geralt's grip and Eskel's belly. "Fuck, I wanna try- I- Geralt-"

Geralt slid his finger out and rested both hands firmly on Jaskier's shoulders. 

" _Breathe._ " He growled against Jaskier's throat, pressing down as Eskel pressed in.

Jaskier felt split wide, the candles flaring into brilliant white through his damp lashes, and then they were settled firmly against each other. All he could do was shake, and laugh, and sob. He thought his body had nothing left to give, but his cock pulsed dryly in Geralt's fingers. He felt pleasure wash over him in warm flutters from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. 

"That's it, that's it-" Eskel was murmuring feverishly. Geralt was rutting against his hip with short, bruising jerks, arms wrapped tightly around them both. "Just a little more, you're so fucking good, both of you-" He exhaled sharply and drove as deep into Jaskier's welcoming, slick heat as he could, spending messily inside. "Geralt-" Eskel said hoarsely, beginning to feather Jaskier's shoulders and neck with tender kisses.

" _What-"_ Geralt ground out, lost in seeking his own pleasure.

"Not on the bard."

" _Fuck._ " He snarled, turning away at the last second to spend over his hand into the warm water. "Oh, fuck."

Eskel slowly petted and kissed Jaskier everywhere he could reach, tender as a bridegroom. "You were so perfect for me." He murmured against the shell of Jaskier's ear. "So, so perfect."


	9. Under The Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel’s eyes opened slowly, watching as Geralt pulled on a loose pair of dark sleeping pants. “Tell Vesemir hello for me.” He husked out with soft humor, burying his nose in Jaskier’s dark hair and inhaling with a content sound. “I’ll keep him warm while you’re gone.”
> 
> “Fuck you, Eskel.” Geralt snapped out, his skin feeling a size too small. He was wound tighter than a bowstring, and there was an ache between his shoulder blades. His hands tightened into fists, and then relaxed, again and again.
> 
> “I’m spent.” Eskel responded with a lazy smile, closing his eyes again. “Go get what you need already, before you break something.”
> 
> “I’ll break you.” Geralt muttered darkly, running his hands through his hair. 
> 
> “Mhm. Yet to see you do it.” Eskel said, gathering Jaskier closer and running a gentle hand up and down the bard’s bare back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude that you can feel free to skip if you're not in the mood for Geralt/Vesmir, spanking, and The Bench.
> 
> (For those curious the reason I'm not tagging this fic with Geralt/Witcher pairings: I know that Geralt/Jaskier isn't everyone's taste, and because that ship is the main focus of this fic, I don't want to lead folks into it on accident and yuck their yum.)
> 
> This one's for you. [points and grins] You know who you are.

Geralt slipped out of bed silently, feeling like his skin was slowly being set on fire. He left Jaskier, deeply asleep and wrapped in Eskel’s arms with his head resting on Eskel's shoulder. The bard’s lips were parted in sleep, inches away from a faint, small mark on Eskel’s own neck. The hesitant result of the bard growing into his teeth. The bard's breath still smelled faintly of the lingering traces of White Gull. There wasn’t a single line of tension in his body, and his face was deeply peaceful.

Geralt envied him that.

Eskel’s eyes opened slowly, watching as Geralt pulled on a loose pair of dark sleeping pants. “Tell Vesemir hello for me.” He husked out with soft humor, burying his nose in Jaskier’s dark hair and inhaling with a content sound. “I’ll keep him warm while you’re gone.”

“Fuck you, Eskel.” Geralt snapped out, his skin feeling a size too small. He was wound tighter than a bowstring, and there was an ache between his shoulder blades. His hands tightened into fists, and then relaxed, again and again.

“I’m spent.” Eskel responded with a lazy smile, closing his eyes again. “Go get what you need already, before you break something.”

“I’ll break  _ you _ .” Geralt muttered darkly, running his hands through his hair. 

“Mhm. Yet to see you do it.” Eskel said, gathering Jaskier closer and running a gentle hand up and down the bard’s bare back. He lifted the russet fur tail, resting against the back of Jaskier’s thigh, and waved the end of it at Geralt with a smirk. He gave the tail the gentlest tug, and Jaskier sighed in his sleep, pressing in closer to Eskel with a small rock of his hips. Eskel’s voice took on a sharp edge of command. “ _ Go _ . Get that itch under your skin seen to and then come back to bed and hold us both. You know the first word out of his mouth when he wakes will be your name. Be here for it.”

“Hm.” Geralt replied, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

“I can’t do this.”

Vesemir looked up at Geralt calmly from where he stood at the foot of his bed. He set the book he was reading down with an expression of mild interest, watching Geralt pace the length of his rooms. “Is that right?”

“I can’t. I  _ won’t.  _ I’m going to- I’m going to throw him over my shoulder, take him up to the tower, and lock us  _ both  _ in there until the passes are clear.”

“If that’s what you need.” Vesemir took the time to mark the page he was reading and close the book, setting it on the table beside the bed. He looked at Geralt steadily, undisturbed by his plans. “What will you eat, while you’re locked in there for weeks?”

“I’ll leave to steal food. At night.” Geralt felt ridiculous as the words left his lips. He sounded like a much younger version of himself, barely grown into his elbows and knees. Coltish and lanky, threatening to run away.

“It sounds as though you have it all planned out.” Vesemir said calmly, picking his book back up and finding his place again. “I won’t stop you.”

“Stop reading your book and take me seriously.” Geralt demanded, his chin high. “I’m not a damned child.” 

“You’re acting like one. I’m waiting for you to get around to telling me why you’re actually here.”

“I-” Geralt fell silent, feeling sulky and irritable.

“Mm. Well, take your time. I have over two hundred pages left in this text. I promise you that you will wear yourself out and break long before I get bored of this book.” Vesemir returned to his reading, ignoring the sound of Geralt kicking at a chair leg with his bare foot and cursing at the pain.

Geralt paced the room like a caged animal, occasionally tugging at his hair and letting the frustration and itch under his skin burn hotter and hotter. Vesemir said nothing, patiently continuing his study of the text in his hands. The sound of steadily turning pages was finally too much, and Geralt crossed the room in two strides, tore the book from Vesemir’s hands, and flung it across the room. He leaned over Vesemir, hands tight on the headboard of either side of the older Witcher's face. He growled low, kneeling on the bed, expression bright with angry triumph.

Vesemir met Geralt’s eyes with icy calm, his voice low and soft. “If that’s what you need.” Vesemir moved lightning quick, grabbing a fistful of white hair close to Geralt’s scalp and tugging his head back sharply. “You could have knelt and asked. Remember that.” 

“You were  _ ignoring me _ .” Geralt snarled, his grip tightening on the wood.

“I was waiting for you.” Vesemir countered calmly, jerking his fist to bare Geralt's throat before making him meet his eyes. “This what you need, then, you little cur?”

“Fuck-” Geralt hissed quietly, his eyes growing heavy lidded as he melted back into the grip. 

“Hm. Language.”

“Yes- yes sir.”

“Good.” Vesemir said quietly. “Enough of that tantrum, now.” He tightened his grip on Geralt’s hair, kneeling up on the bed to rise over him. He dragged a sharp nail down Geralt’s throat, feeling him swallow at the touch. “Tell me what you need.”

"I don't  _ need _ -"

"You know what happens if you don't tell me."

"You have to choose.” Geralt admitted finally, voice rough. “I need you to choose."

"You can't control yourself, can you? Watching him get everything you want. Contenting yourself with the scraps your brothers have left." He tugged again at Geralt's hair. "Tell me."

"I need you to be in control." Geralt said quietly, already feeling the itch under his skin settle and ease.

"I am. You have any doubts about that, pup?" Geralt shifted as the old nickname sent a twist of heat through his gut.

"No, sir."

"Up and off." Vesemir said calmly, watching Geralt intently as he obeyed. Vesemir exhaled softly, taking a robe off a hook and tying it around his dark sleeping clothes. “You’re too old for these games. It’d save time if you ever grew into telling me what you needed.”

“I know.” Geralt said quietly, making a thorough study of the floor with a tired sigh.

“Ah, well.” Vesemir scrubbed a hand over his face, giving Geralt a fond smile. “Fetch the book, then we’ll go.” Geralt looked around the room, and found the book laying facedown, bent on its spine on the floor. He winced and closed it carefully, bringing it back.

“I’m...I apologize for being careless with your things, Vesemir.”

“Hm.” Vesemir studied Geralt for a long moment, taking the book and turning it in his hands. “That bad.” Geralt felt his face grow warm as he nodded, feeling chided as a young trainee. “Well.” He gestured to the door with the book, setting it carefully on the bedside table before following Geralt out into the hallway.

* * *

Geralt was marched silently down the hall, Vesemir’s hand tight on the back of his neck. He turned when Vesemir turned him, climbed stairs as needed, and found himself in front of a familiar door. 

“Open it.” Vesemir said quietly.

Geralt wiped a sweating palm on his pants and opened the door with a soft inhale. 

Vesemir lit the fire and the candles in the room with a single murmured word and gesture. Geralt felt the thick, plush rug under his feet. He studied the dense tapestries hanging on the walls, which would muffle any sound. Tension drained from his body at the sight of the bench - wood polished smooth from years of hands. The leather was fresh and well oiled, recently cleaned and supple.

Vesemir pressed gently on Geralt’s shoulder. “Kneel.” He said quietly. Geralt went to his knees slowly, settling down on them and bowing his head with a soft exhale. He rested his hand on Geralt's head before slipping out of his robe - the room was growing warm enough that sweat was beginning to bead on their skin.

His hands went to the laces of his pants, and then he paused, considering. "Tell me if you think you deserve this now." He let his hands fall loose at his sides.

"Your cock?" Geralt wet his lips, then shook his head miserably. "No."

Vesemir ran his fingers slowly through Geralt’s hair, then nodded thoughtfully. He gripped his chin, turning Geralt’s face up to him. “The bench, then.”

“Please.” Geralt said roughly, his pupils narrowed to thin slits. 

“Pants on.” Geralt stood on shaking legs, taking a deep breath, and then settled himself over the bench. His knees and calves rested spread on the supports waiting for them, his head and back angled down low across the padded bench with his ass high. He closed his eyes, steadying himself. It was a position no Witcher would ever want to find themselves in unwillingly, clothed or otherwise. Exposed, presented, vulnerable. He let the last of the tension go, hands curling around to grip the shorter front legs of the bench. He traced the well worn wood with his fingertips and felt something uncurl in his chest at the familiar texture under his fingers. 

“Can you hold still for this?” Vesemir asked quietly, a hand resting between his shoulder blades.

“Not tonight.” Geralt’s voice was soft and hoarse.

The thick leather cuffs, like everything else in the room, were worn soft with age and well cared for. The soft fur lining them felt grounding as Vesemir buckled his ankles and wrists in place. “Tell me why you need this.”

“...I had to be inside him first, before any of you.” Geralt replied hollowly, pressing his cheek against the bench and letting his eyes fall closed. He inhaled deeply of the scent of old sweat, cleaning oil, leather, warm wood. 

“With your fingers.” Vesemir clarified.

“Yes. And I threatened Eskel and Lambert during Eskel’s turn with Jaskier. I- he cried. Because of my words. Thought I was angry with him for letting Eskel mark him.”

“Were you?” Vesemir’s hand returned between his shoulders, a light weight against his spine.

“No. Gods, no. Jealous. Wanted to be the one being marked while he watched. Eskel said he’d take care of me, after Jaskier. But the bard wanted a second turn.”

“And?”

“I resented it...I nearly came on his back out of spite.”

“Nearly means didn’t.” Vesemir said softly.

“It doesn’t matter. Nearly was close enough.” 

“All right.” Vesemir said with a soft exhale, resting his hand on the back of Geralt’s neck. “Five for disrespecting rules you knew would be in place. Five for resenting your brother his due, and five for frightening your bard.”

“That’s all?” Geralt asked quietly, the tension coiling again in his chest.

“Five for wasting my time instead of telling me what you needed plainly.” There was the faintest edge of a fond smile in Vesemir’s voice. "And one extra, for throwing the book."

“Agreed.” Geralt said softly. 

“I don’t want stamina or endurance from you.” Vesemir said, moving behind Geralt. “I want honesty. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good lad. Count." Vesemir’s hand struck his ass with strength and precision.

There was no warm up blow. Geralt knew from experience - whatever the implement, that he could layer pain with even strikes that could cut through even the most stoic Witcher’s training. The thin cloth absorbed little of the blow, but Geralt still felt resentful of its protection.

“One.” Geralt gasped out softly, and the thrashing began in earnest.

Each strike was red, red, red.

Brighter around the edges of the handprints, where he knew they’d bruise as deep livid reminders. 

At five, he began to melt into the bench, testing the strength of the cuffs and feeling warm relief spreading through his limbs when they refused to give. It eased the itch and nervy tension that he had  _ done wrong _ and the deep desire to be seen through it, corrected, forgiven. 

Vesemir did not hesitate, pull his blows, or comfort Geralt between strikes. This had happened often enough that the pattern was well worn by now. He left enough time between each stinging slap that Geralt felt each blow keenly. His hand rested on Geralt’s warmed skin through cloth, his thumb tracing the edge of where each mark would lay. Squeezing reddened flesh until Geralt choked out a noise that was not entirely pained. The blows never melted into each other in a warm blur of pain, and Vesemir chose a new spot for each strike with an expert eye.

At ten, Geralt stopped testing the restraints, his hips moving into each blow with a soft grunt of pain. His cock began to fill between his spread legs, heavy and growing more eager with each strike, and the following caressing stroke that followed it. The numbers grew hoarser as his face reddened and his shoulders shook.

By fifteen, regardless of Vesemir’s careful aim, he felt each blow as part of a greater whole. The fire and candles had begun to blur before his eyes. A languid heaviness was filling his limbs, the thin fabric feeling as though it was seared into his flesh with each strike. Slickness began to bead at the head of his cock, dampening the fabric that trapped it. His breathing was fast and light with more than the growing pain. 

Now, the strikes were orange and gold, leaving a burning sting that moved deeper. His wrists and ankles ached, and his breaths were heavy and short. The rasp of fabric against his cock was its own type of torture. 

At twenty, the pain had turned white and searing, sharp edged. So had the pleasure.

Vesemir paused, as he always did before the final blow. Geralt shuddered, making a low sound when Vesemir eased the thin fabric of the sleeping pants down. He felt the sharp edge of a nail tracing the edge of a handprint, and sucked in a ragged breath. Vesemir’s hand slipped between his legs and gave his hard cock a rough, firm squeeze.

“There you are, pup. That’s much better. And nearly done.” Vesemir said quietly.

“Yes.” Geralt said languidly, letting his cheek fall back against the leather.

The final strike was the worst, and the best. Geralt shouted through gritted teeth, and took a shaking breath when Vesemir said, “It’s done.” 

Geralt tried to mumble his thanks against the leather, but he was suddenly so very tired. He lay against the bench limply. Those same strong hands, so very capable of providing pain, were carefully stroking down over his shoulders, carding through his hair. “Easy, pup. You took it well.”

“Mm.”

“Do you need to carry the reminder on your skin for a few days?” 

“I…” Geralt trailed off, his voice soft. “Just until we’re finished.” 

"I'll choose when we're finished." Vesemir said firmly. Geralt made a low, grateful sound at the sound of his laces being undone. He shuddered as Vesemir lifted his chin carefully, unable to open his eyes. Vesemir's cock nudged at his soft mouth. "Open." He said, quiet but stern.

Geralt parted his teeth, feeling Vesemir slowly slide the head of his cock back and forth over his bottom lip. Vesemir hummed quietly to himself. "The next time, you come straight to this room after. Look at me.“ Geralt’s eyes opened slowly, fixed on Vesemir’s face. His pupils were wide and black. “You come here.”

Geralt nodded, and exhaled with relief when Vesemir’s fingers tangled tightly in his hair again. “Easy, now. You let me do this. Don’t do anything but take it.” Geralt swallowed and nodded again, relaxing his jaw and letting his eyes fall shut. “There you are.”

His whole world narrowed down to the thick, familiar length sliding slowly between his lips. The hand tight in his hair, the fingers moving slowly along the line of his jaw. Vesemir’s scent surrounded him, warm and comforting. “Good.” Vesemir murmured. “That’s good, pup.” Geralt felt a flush of pleasure at the praise, laying on the bench relaxed and easy as Vesemir slowly stroked in between his lips with long, careful motions.

“Wider, now.” He said softly, pulling Geralt’s face in closer with a quiet exhale as he nudged the back of Geralt’s throat. Geralt took a deep breath and swallowed as that thick length slid into his throat, his hands tightening on the legs of the bench at his body’s brief ripple of protest. “Shh. Easy. You breathe when I say you do. That’s all.” He gently stroked through Geralt’s hair, pressing in deeper before withdrawing.

It happened again and again, until Geralt could do nothing but drink in air in greedy gulps. He let his mind go empty and floated in the sensation each time Vesmir surged forward. His expression was lax and easy, eyes heavy lidded. When Vesemir fully withdrew, both his cock and Geralt’s chin were shiny and wet with saliva. 

“Let’s get you what you need.” Vesemir growled softly, letting Geralt’s hair go carefully and guiding his cheek back to the warm leather. 

Geralt cried out sharply at the feel of Vesemir’s fingers, gripping the bruised and heated skin of his ass before pulling his cheeks apart. “Gods-  _ fuck-  _ that  _ burns- _ ”

“Fifteen wasn’t enough for you.” Vesemir said with mild humor, but without sympathy. He gripped tighter, then released. Geralt groaned between clenched teeth. 

“Please-” He choked out, his wrists jerking against the restraints. “Vesemir,  _ please- _ ” 

“You’re getting it. Stop whining.” Vesemir chided with a light, playful slap to Geralt’s bare hip that made him jerk. Geralt made a strangled sound as three well slicked fingers pressed inside him without preamble.

“Ahh-” Geralt bit sharply at the inside of his cheek, stifling the noise. The stretch was too much, too fast, sending burning sparks of pleasure and pain skittering up his spine. 

“Quiet now. You need this. It’s for your own good.” His fingers worked Geralt open relentlessly, twisting and spreading wide. “You need a tail to wear when Lambert has him next? Plug you up with something hard and thick, fur down between your legs. Make sure your bard knows he’s not the only bitch in heat that needs mounting in Kaer Morhen?” Geralt cried out hoarsely at the stretch and press, his neglected cock painful and throbbing. “Keep you stripped, stuff you full until you ache with it.” His fingers gave a wicked twist, making Geralt shudder, his toes curling tightly. “Think it’d be for the best. Keep you out of trouble.”

Geralt made a grunt of agreement, pushing back into the thick fingers spearing him as much as he could. It didn’t matter which words were for his benefit and which were actual promises - they worked.

“You think you deserve this now?” Vesmir’s fingers were replaced by the blunt head of his cock pressing against his open and waiting hole. “I think you do. I think you’re getting just what you deserve.” He pushed in deep in one smooth thrust that left Geralt gasping for breath - it was punishment and reward all at once.

“Yes-  _ fuck _ -” 

“Just need a firm hand, that’s all.” Vesemir muttered quietly, almost to himself, as his hands stroked slowly down Geralt’s sides. “You’re going to be good and patient from now on. You wait for your turn. No more of this ‘nearly’ nonsense, you hear me?” Geralt responded with a wordless groan, and Vesemir’s hand tightened in his hair, jerking his head up. “What was that, you little cur?”

“Ahh-  _ fuck- _ yes- Yes, sir.” Vesemir set up an unrelenting pace that left Geralt moaning wantonly and pressing back into each deep thrust.

“You think you can be honest with me when your sore ass is squirming on my knot?” 

“Yes- yes-  _ fuck- _ ”

“We’ll see.” Vesmir grumbled fondly, burying himself deep and spending with a low groan, hips jerking sharply. Geralt gasped at the swelling stretch, stuffing him full and making him shift and try to open his legs more. “Tsk, you’ve more practice with this.” He murmured, resting his hand on the nape of Geralt’s neck as he tightened and made soft sounds of mixed distress and pleasure. 

“It’s- it’s-” 

“Yeah. I know, pup.” Vesemir murmured gently, stroking his fingers through Geralt’s hair with a breathless laugh. “Every time for you’s like the first.” He reached under the bench, grasping Geralt’s cock firmly. “You fuck yourself on my knot until you spend, then we’re going to talk about why you’re really here. Come on now. You howl for me good and loud.”

Geralt moved his hips greedily with what little motion the restraints allowed for, panting with low, snarled noises. He came fast and hard with a sharp shout, clenching around Vesemir’s knot. Vesemir carded the mess he left over his palm and fingers slowly through Geralt’s hair, murmuring soft praise. 

“There you are. Good lad. Better now?” 

“Mhm.” Geralt mumbled, pressing his forehead to the leather with an exhausted sigh. Vesemir’s hands rubbed firmly over the now slack muscles of his back and neck. 

“Suppose you tell me what really got under your skin.” Vesemir prompted softly.

“Eskel was teasing him. Talking about bringing a bench into the main hall. Binding him.” Geralt muttered, his eyes growing heavy. “...I don’t want the first time with him to be on a bench like this.” 

“Because that’s your place?”

“Because he deserves better. I wanted it to be...softer. A bed, a big one. Like something out of one of his dirty ballads.” The words came out thick and soft. “Silk scarves, not leather bonds.”

“I thought we trained all that romance out of you.” Vesemir said, not unkindly, pressing his thumbs in firmly to the knots at the base of Geralt’s skull. 

“No.” Geralt admitted on a soft exhale. “And I want him to take me, after.”

“Hm.” Vesemir stroked his fingers through the mess in Geralt’s hair, combing slowly. “We’d still all go first. Bed or bench.”

“Yes.”

“With both of you?” Geralt’s cock began to grow hard again at the tone in Vesemir’s words, and Vesemir chuckled knowingly. “Ohh. That’s what it is.” He lightly began to stroke over Geralt’s sensitive cock with just the tips of his fingers. “You want him to get just as good a look at you. You want him drooling at the thought of his own cock buried deep in you. Just as hungry to claim you as you are him. Don’t try to lie.” Vesemir pulled his hand away, leaving Geralt making soft, frustrated sounds and rolling his hips against the warm air. “Know you too well, pup.”

“ _ Yes- _ ” Vesemir’s hand wrapped firmly around his length and Geralt moaned for him, low and eager. “Yes, I want that. I want him to slide in so easy, I want- I want him to know I’m-  _ fuck- _ ”

“There it is. There, now. Come for me.”

Geralt whimpered when he came at the command. It was a soft sound of surrender that didn’t belong in a Witcher’s throat. Somehow, it still fit perfectly. He lay pliant on the bench afterwards, half dozing as Vesemir slowly petted over his shoulders and back, murmuring quiet reassurances.

“We’ll see, lad. We’ll see.” 

* * *

Geralt slipped back into bed with Eskel and Jaskier, burying his face in Jaskier’s hair and inhaling deeply with a soft smile. Eskel’s eyes opened slowly, and his expression was gentle as he studied Geralt’s face. He reached out and brushed a damp strand of hair away from Geralt’s face. 

“You had a bath.” He said softly, careful to keep his voice low so as not to wake the bard pressed between them. “Get it sorted out, then?”

“Mmm.” Geralt mumbled, wrapping his arms around both Jaskier and Eskel. “Think so.” The bowstring tension was gone, leaving behind a languid ease.

“You smell like salve and leather. What’d it take to get you to talk to him?” Eskel’s tone was gently teasing.

“Twenty one strikes and a knot.” Geralt admitted with a soft laugh.

“Gods, you’re impossible. Anyone else could just say what was bothering them.”

“Not me.”

“No, not you.” Eskel said with a tender smile, gently brushing the pad of his thumb over Geralt’s bottom lip. “Your breath still smells like him. Under the mint.”

“I know.” Geralt’s lips curled up in a pleased, private smile, as his eyes drifted shut. “Shut up and let me sleep, I’m exhausted.”

“Poor puppy.” Eskel laughed quietly. “All right. Sleep.”


	10. A Quick Little Dance Before Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whispered voices woke Geralt at once. He was on his side, Jaskier’s chest pressed against his back. Jaskier’s voice was thick with sleep, Eskel’s low and dark.
> 
> “Little bird...shhh...wake up, little bird-”
> 
> “Wha- what time is it?”
> 
> “Not quite dawn. We still have time. You said you wanted me to fuck you the way I fucked Geralt last night.”
> 
> “...oh. Oh-”
> 
> “Still want that?”
> 
> The scent of Eskel and Jaskier’s combined arousal, thick in the air. The obvious answer.
> 
> “Yes-” A whispered hiss.
> 
> “Witchers are deep sleepers. He won’t notice.” The edge of a smirk in Eskel’s voice, knowing the opposite was true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mini interlude update. Feeling a little rough this week, real world's asserting itself, so the words just aren't flowing.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and kind words, everyone!

_ Whispered voices woke Geralt at once. He was on his side, Jaskier’s chest pressed against his back. Jaskier’s voice was thick with sleep, Eskel’s low and dark. _

_ “Little bird...shhh...wake up, little bird-” _

_ “Wha- what time is it?” _

_ “Not quite dawn. We still have time. You said you wanted me to fuck you the way I fucked Geralt last night.” _

_ “...oh. Oh-” _

_ “Still want that?” _

_ The scent of Eskel and Jaskier’s combined arousal, thick in the air. The obvious answer. _

_ “Yes-” A whispered hiss. _

_ “Witchers are deep sleepers. He won’t notice.” The edge of a smirk in Eskel’s voice, knowing the opposite was true.  _

_ “Ah-” _

_ “Gonna fuss this time about me taking this out?” _

_ “ _ **_Ah-_ ** _ no- ‘s fine-” A cut off cry against his shoulder. _

_ “Gods...you’re still so slick and open…dripping for me...” The smell of seed and oil, stronger than the lingering traces that clung to Jaskier’s skin.  _

_ “Fuck, fuck-” _

_ “Shh. Keep your voice down.” _

_ “Ohfuck, fuck-” _

_ “Right there?” _

_ “Yeah, right- hff- your fucking  _ **fingers** _ , Eskel-” _

_ “Look how easy you’re opening up. Sweet little slut.” _

_ “Oh, gods-” Wanton appreciation, not shame at the word. _

_ “Like that?” _

_ “I’d- hff- I’d like your cock more-” _

_ Geralt fought not to make a sound at the hard press of Jaskier’s cock against his reddened ass. Rubbing against bruised flesh through his sleeping pants. _

_ “Yeah? You think you can take it?” _

_ “Please, please-” Whispered and frantic against Geralt’s neck.  _

_ “Hold on tight to him.” Jaskier’s arms, wrapping tightly around his waist, his chest. Pulling him closer. _

_ “Quick little dance before dawn. Geralt won’t know, but we’ll know, won’t we? And Lambert will know. He’ll know the second he slips that tail out of you and it goes so easy...” _

_ “Ah-  _ **_fuck!_ ** _ ” The cry quickly muffled behind a palm.  _

_ Geralt’s skin burned. _

_ “Don’t think I’m gonna bother to knot you. Just gonna fill your hole up, just like this. You don’t need me deep, do you?” A muffled, keening protest in response. “Oh, not enough for you?” _

_ “Hn-” _

_ “That’s too bad. You take what I give you- hff- just like that. Just like that.” _

_ Wet, quick sounds of skin on skin. Eskel’s hips lightly slapping Jaskier’s, Jaskier’s frantic squirming against him. Geralt’s eyes were open in the dark, heavy lidded. His fingers twitched, yearning to close around his own hard and aching cock. _

_ A muffled please. _

_ “God, I wanna- but you’re just gonna have to wait for Lambert’s knot.” Soft, choked sounds. The press of Jaskier’s cock, insistent as he rutted against Geralt’s ass. Rustling of blankets, Eskel’s thrusts sharp and timed with each word. “There. There. Fuck. Yes.”  _

_ The sharp tang of Eskel’s seed, the distinct lack of Jaskier following him. Jaskier’s rapid heartbeat against his back. Eskel’s name, muffled against skin. Jaskier’s breath, hot and fast through his nose. _

_ “Put that back in you…” _

_ “Mmf!” _

_ “Yeah. That’s better, isn’t it? Gonna take my hand off your mouth now. You get to say one word. If I like it, you come.” _

_ Silence. Ragged breathing. _

_ Then, aching and full of need, “Eskel…” _

_ “Suppose I’ll take pity on you, then. Let him go, on your back.” The absence of Jaskier’s warm body, the heat of his skin. The lack made Geralt burn hotter. “Keep your teeth together.” Fast, rough strokes, skin on skin. A sudden moan, choked out between gritted teeth. The scent of Jaskier’s seed. Then Eskel’s rough, wet palm, swiping down once between his shoulder blades. “Leaving Geralt a present from you.” _

_ “...hah- fuck- Eskel-”  _

_ “Shh. Settle down. Plenty of time left to sleep.”  _

_ Geralt did not sleep again for a long time. It was long after Jaskier’s breath evened out, growing deep and steady. Long after Eskel’s knowing chuckle.  _

_ Burning, aching, finally, he drifted back to sleep. _

\---

Jaskier lay sprawled out on the bed, relaxed and easy, with his cheek pillowed on Geralt’s thigh. Geralt was chatting quietly with Eskel, repairs to be made to the castle, supplies to be laid in the next time the passes cleared enough. Training to be done. Jaskier let himself drift comfortably, savoring the sound of their voices and the gentle hand in his hair.

A knock on the door made him shift and blink, murmuring with sleepy good humor, “It can’t be noon yet.” 

“Hm. Not quite.” Eskel said with a soft smile. He reached across Jaskier’s back, taking the russet fur tail in his hand and giving it a small tug. The bard groaned appreciatively, lifting his hips.

“Wouldn’t mind if it was.” Jaskier said with a sly smile. 

“Suppose I’ll see to the door, since you’ve got a bard in your lap.” Eskel teased Geralt, standing with a grunt. “He’s pleased and lazy, and my everything aches.” 

“Where’s that famous Witcher stamina you all go on about?” Jaskier teased, nuzzling Geralt’s thigh. “ _ Your _ everything won’t ache after three rounds, will it?”

“Hm.” Geralt grunted noncommittally. “Three?” 

“Three.” Eskel affirmed, lazy pleasure in his voice as he opened the door. 


	11. Not Quite Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not quite twelve yet, is it?” Eskel said with a smirk, leaning in the doorway and barring Lambert’s way. Lambert scowled and shouldered Eskel aside. 
> 
> “Will be by the time I get you out of the room, won’t it?” He growled, then studied Jaskier’s reclining form with a slow grin. “Gods, did you even sleep?” 
> 
> “I got enough rest.”
> 
> “Your loss. I’m keeping him busy ‘til daybreak.”
> 
> “Big words.” Eskel rolled his eyes, miming a flapping mouth by opening and closing his hand. Eskel leaned forward, gently nudging the underside of Jaskier’s chin with a curled finger. “We all know he likes me best out of anyone who isn’t Geralt.”
> 
> “Hah.” Lambert said without humor, pointing at the door with his free hand. There was a bundle of cloth and other items tucked under his arm. “Out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, here it is. I know some of you have been pounding on your tables chanting "LAMBERT, LAMBERT, LAMBERT." I hope he lives up to your expectations.
> 
> As always, you're all lovely and valid. Please enjoy this humble offering of filth in these trying times. 
> 
> (Your comments give me life, please don't be shy about leaving me essays, keysmashes, or emojis on every chapter - I have a folder of screenshotted favorites that are keeping me going through rough days.)

“Not quite twelve yet, is it?” Eskel said with a smirk, leaning in the doorway and barring Lambert’s way. Lambert scowled and shouldered Eskel aside. 

“Will be by the time I get you out of the room, won’t it?” He growled, then studied Jaskier’s reclining form with a slow grin. “Gods, did you even sleep?” 

“I got enough rest.”

“Your loss. I’m keeping him busy ‘til daybreak.”

“Big words.” Eskel rolled his eyes, miming a flapping mouth by opening and closing his hand. Eskel leaned forward, gently nudging the underside of Jaskier’s chin with a curled finger. “We all know he likes me best out of anyone who isn’t Geralt.”

“Hah.” Lambert said without humor, pointing at the door with his free hand. There was a bundle of cloth and other items tucked under his arm. “Out.” 

“I don’t know.” Eskel yawned and stretched. “Suddenly, I’m not feeling in a rush.”

“Oh? Let me help you with that.” Lambert dumped the bundle on the table, then ran at Eskel, wrapping his middle in a tight bear hug and lifting him bodily. He carried the other witcher to the doorway, Eskel struggling and cursing all the way. Lambert dropped Eskel outside the door, grinning from ear to ear. “See you at breakfast tomorrow, brother.” He added, before slamming the door shut and bolting it. 

“Now-” Lambert drawled, leaning against the closed wood with a smirk. “Where were we?”

* * *

Lambert grabbed an apple from a bowl of fruit, sitting down to eat it noisily while he watched Geralt and Jaskier with glittering eyes. “Heard from Vesemir you had a busy night.” He commented, watching heat rise in both their faces. He grinned slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Surprised you can both sit so comfortably. Maybe it’s different sitting on a soft bed rather than a hard chair. Suppose there’s a reason neither of you have come down for breakfast.”

“Lambert…” Geralt muttered, expression dark. 

“Hey, I’m not planning on going easy on either of you. Even if you’re both fucked out and sore.” Lambert pointed with the half eaten apple with a sharp edged smile. “I followed the rules, and waited for my turn. Now, here we are. I’m gonna sit right here and look at both of you until that fucking bell stops ringing.”

Lambert was as good as his word. He sat, slowly finishing the piece of fruit as he leaned against the wall and _looked_. Jaskier felt his eyes like a caress over his skin - taking in the dark marks over his throat and shoulders, the length of dark reddish brown fur that fell just past the bend of his knee. Geralt’s fingers, moving slowly over his hair and nape of his neck, again and again.

“Eskel’s tail is so fucking pretty in you.” Lambert commented quietly, as Geralt lifted the heavy length and brushed the back of Jaskier’s thigh with it. “How’s it feel?” 

“...ah-” Jaskier began, a faint flush beginning to creep up his neck. “Good, I suppose?”

“Hm.”

“Different than Vesemir’s.” Jaskier admitted, biting his lip with a cheeky grin. “It’s- ah- shaped a little different, and it’s warmer.”

“Polished wood, not metal. Has a little more give to it.”

“What’s yours?” Jaskier felt the words slip out and then buried his face against Geralt’s thigh with a soft laugh at the eager curiosity in his voice.

“Stone, and black fur. But that’s putting the cart ahead of the horse, don’t you think?” Lambert stood, sorting through the contents of the bundle as the twelfth bell sounded. “Right.” He said, voice taking on a sharp edge. “We’ll get your pet Witcher all sorted first, then.” His amber eyes settled on Jaskier with heat. “I’ll see about you.”

Lambert shook out a neatly folded, white nightshirt, and Jaskier’s face burned with recognition. “Remember this, do you?” Lambert asked with sly pleasure. “Good. Geralt, keep your hand on the back of his neck. Keep him still.”

Jaskier swallowed thickly at the heavy pressure of Geralt’s hand on the back of his neck. A soft, helpless moan followed at the feel of the thick wooden plug in his ass being shifted by its base. “I can smell Eskel. All over you.” Lambert growled softly. “Don’t make a mess.” He tugged sharply, and Jaskier cried out as the plug slipped free, trying to clench tightly against the seed and slick still filling him. Jaskier shivered at the silky brush of fur up and down his spine, his shoulders, behind his ears.

“Gods.” Jaskier whispered hoarsely. Lambert grinned.

“Just wait.” His eyes settled on Geralt as he addressed Jaskier. Jaskier felt the brush of cool linen against his hole. “Relax a little now. It’ll be better if the scent’s fresh.” 

Jaskier moaned softly and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s thigh, feeling his body relax and open at the words. Lambert swiped the cloth slowly through the slick mess and then nodded in approval. “Geralt. Up.” 

Jaskier was left on the bed, watching Geralt as he stood with easy grace, studying Lambert with the barest twitch of a smile. “I thought I was supposed to be watching.” He said lazily, a curl of a dare in his voice. 

“You’re going to. But I had a word with Vesemir, and _apparently_ …” Lambert’s eyes flicked over Geralt’s body. “You need help sitting still for it. Over the table. Hands on the back of your neck.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened as Geralt obediently bent over the table, hands laced together and resting clasped at the nape of his neck. He wetted his lips, mind racing at the various possibilities a Witcher in that position would afford. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as Lambert eased Geralt’s pants down over his hips. Jaskier stared at the fading bruises mottling the pale skin of his ass.

“Pretty sight, isn’t it?” Lambert asked, throwing Jaskier a knowing look over his shoulder. He grabbed a handful of the bruised flesh, squeezing cruelly. Geralt let out a soft groan that didn’t sound at all displeased. “Interesting fact for you, bard. We have plenty of salves and potions that would take care of bruising like this. Only reason you’d keep marks like this is because you liked the look or feel of them. Isn’t that right?” 

Geralt made another soft sound, then hissed and jumped at a sudden hard strike from Lambert’s palm. 

Lambert unscrewed a glass jar on the table, smearing a generously sized dollop of its contents on two fingertips. “You probably don’t even need this, but I’m going easy on you for the sake of your bard’s sensibilities.” Jaskier watched, open mouthed, as Geralt easily took those two thick fingers with no more than a quiet sigh. “Yeah. Thought you wouldn't need much. You’re still wet inside from Vesemir.” Those fingers stroked in and out slowly, then Lambert picked up Eskel’s plug, giving it a cursory wipe with the night shirt before smearing the leftover slick over it. “Here we go. Know watching’ll go easier if you have something to clench down on. Won’t it?” 

Geralt groaned in response, and Lambert lightly swatted his hip. “ _Won’t_ it?”

“Yes, damn it.” Geralt snarled, then made a throaty groan as Lambert pressed the thick wooden plug inside. Lambert let the tail drop, and Jaskier felt his own ass clench in sympathy and envy. The russet fur was a striking contrast against Geralt’s hard muscles and scars - soft vulnerability in the middle of all that ferocious strength.

“Gods, I want one of my own.” Jaskier said hoarsely, not taking his eyes off Geralt’s back. 

“Oh yeah?” Lambert gave him a wicked grin. “You think you’ve got enough wolf in you to earn a tail of your own?”

“Still got two wolves to go, don’t I?” Jaskier threw back with a smirk. “After I take all of you, I’m pretty certain I’ll be up to my eyes with wolf.”

“Hah! You’re more of a fox than a wolf, little vixen. It’d be quite a sight to see a gold fox tail dangling from that ass.” Jaskier made a soft sound as the red fur shifted slightly when Geralt clenched tightly around the thick plug. Lambert took the nightshirt between his fingers and ripped it into long strips, the tightly woven fabric shredding like thin paper. “Sit.” Lambert said curtly, after placing one of the hard wood chairs next to the table facing the bed. 

Geralt sat, shifting the fur tail with a flick of his wrist so that it draped over the seat of the chair behind him. Lambert deftly used the strips of cloth to bind him, one large strip knotted around Geralt’s chest to hold him close to the back of the chair. Another strip bound his wrists behind his back. Lambert knelt between Geralt’s spread legs, Geralt’s pants still around his knees and ankles. He took them off with one sharp yank, and tossed them aside carelessly before binding Geralt at ankle, knee, and thigh. With a soft, thoughtful hum, Lambert regarded the handful of remaining strips. 

“What are you going to do with those?” Jaskier asked, forcing himself to keep himself from rubbing his own hard cock against the covers at the sight of Geralt. Bound up like a feast-day present, his cock already hard and leaking from the bonds and the tail. 

“Found your voice again?” Lambert asked with a smirk, before knotting a tight loop around the base of Geralt’s cock and balls. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just watching. This-” Lambert gestured to the trussed up Witcher, balling up the remaining strips and grinning at Geralt. “Is just to keep him settled so he doesn’t get any ideas about misbehaving when I take my turn with you.” Lambert tapped on Geralt’s chin with his fingers. “Open.” 

Geralt opened his mouth after baring his teeth with a low, warning growl. Lambert easily stuffed the wadded up cloth between his lips, avoiding sharp teeth. “Shut up. You know you love it.” 

Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off Geralt. From how easily Lambert had shredded the nightshirt, the only reason those bonds would hold him is because...he let them. His mouth went dry at the thought. What would it be like, having Geralt bound like that? At his mercy? Trusting him enough to tie him in place, _letting_ him do what he liked. Lambert watched the thought unfold behind Jaskier’s eyes and grinned slowly.

“I think you and I are going to have fun together, little fox.”


	12. Put Him In Something Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Clothes?” He asked softly, looking at Lambert with a puzzled frown. “I thought-”
> 
> “And these.” A bundle of cool silk hit Jaskier in the middle of the chest, and he shook out the undergarments, face flaming red.
> 
> “These are-” 
> 
> “Very pretty. I like pretty things.” Lambert plucked gently at one of the ribbons holding the scraps of satin and lace together. “Let’s see how you look in these.” Lambert sank to one knee, easing the silken confection up around Jaskier’s hips and tying it expertly in place. Lambert dragged his thumb slowly over the outline of Jaskier’s hard cock, pressing against the thin fabric. “Yeah, that’s lovely.”
> 
> Jaskier slid the sleeveless chemise over his head, and couldn’t resist dragging the palm of his hand down his chest, feeling the contrast between hard muscle and soft silk. He heard a muffled groan from Geralt, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Apparently you were wrong, Geralt.” Jaskier said softly. “I will get to wear clothes this winter.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience waiting for this update! Life happened, and I didn't get a turn with the horny writing braincell for a while. Please accept this humble offering of 1.2k of Jaskier/Lambert lingerie frottage. 
> 
> I appreciate everyone's enthusiasm in the comments! You're all lovely and valid, my filthy darlings. <3

Lambert’s hands roamed carefully over Jaskier’s body posessively. They tested the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and wrists. He made a delicate study of the callouses on each fingertip, sucking one of Jaskier’s fingers into his mouth and drawing a sharp gasp from the bard. Lambert chuckled quietly and released Jaskier’s fingertip. He ran his hands slowly down Jaskier’s hips and over his thighs, then up, to span the bard’s waist. He tugged Jaskier closer with a sharp edged grin.

“Very pretty.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier managed, heat rising in his face.

“Let’s put you in something pretty to match.” Lambert murmured. “Stay there.” He gathered up one of the bundles of cloth on the table, then passed it to Jaskier. Jaskier shook out a soft, black velvet shirt and matching breeches, the fabric thin leather and buttery soft to the touch. 

“Clothes?” He asked softly, looking at Lambert with a puzzled frown. “I thought-”

“And these.” A bundle of cool silk hit Jaskier in the middle of the chest, and he shook out the undergarments, face flaming red.

“These are-” 

“Very pretty. I like pretty things.” Lambert plucked gently at one of the ribbons holding the scraps of satin and lace together. “Let’s see how you look in these.” Lambert sank to one knee, easing the silken confection up around Jaskier’s hips and tying it expertly in place. Lambert dragged his thumb slowly over the outline of Jaskier’s hard cock, pressing against the thin fabric. “Yeah, that’s lovely.”

Jaskier slid the sleeveless chemise over his head, and couldn’t resist dragging the palm of his hand down his chest, feeling the contrast between hard muscle and soft silk. He heard a muffled groan from Geralt, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Apparently you were wrong, Geralt.” Jaskier said softly. “I will get to wear clothes this winter.” 

“Get the rest on.” Lambert said, voice husky. “Then get in my lap, and I’m going to tell you a little bit about what we’re gonna do together.”

The trousers clung to Jaskier’s legs like a second skin, the leather a warm caress. And the dark velvet shirt was cool and warm at once, the material rubbing sensually over the satin underneath. After three days, fabric against his skin was an obscene pleasure all its own. Jaskier groaned softly as he took a step, then another. He settled himself in Lambert’s lap and let the Witcher rearrange his limbs to his own liking.

In the end, Jaskier was sitting in Lambert’s arms with his legs splayed over Lambert’s raised knee, supported with one of the Witcher’s palms low on his back. Lambert’s other hand roamed everywhere over the soft fabric, making Jaskier squirm and gasp for breath. 

Lambert trailed lingering kisses over the marks on Jaskier’s throat, murmuring appreciation for Eskel’s work. He took the edge of Jaskier’s ear between his teeth and bit softly, then spoke low. “Bet you’re clenched so tight, trying not to drip Eskel’s seed all over that fancy fabric.” His fingers slid over the obvious bulge pressed against the thin leather, then moved back farther. Jaskier groaned at the feeling of those fingers massaging his hole through layers of leather and satin. 

“Fuck-”

“Shh. Telling you a story. Listen.” Lambert kissed softly just behind Jaskier’s ear. “You’re gonna squirm, and you’re gonna beg, and I’m gonna make you come in those fancy pants until you’re sobbing for me to stop. Then I’ll peel all that off of you- just enough to get a good look at the mess you’ve made. Like you’re making now, leaking from your cock and your hole.” Lambert rubbed roughly over Jaskier’s sensitive, covered cock, drawing out a ragged moan from the bard. 

“When you can’t take my eyes on you anymore, when you’re burning with it, then I’ll fuck you good and hard and fast. And you’ll just have to kneel there, bent over and whining on my knot and take it. You’d better pray that either you’ll be stretched enough or I have the patience to wait until it’s gone down enough, because I’m gonna fuck you with my knot with your pants around your knees.” Jaskier bucked his hips with a desperate gasp as Lambert tightened his fingers viciously around his cock. “First thing you’re gonna do is let all the rest of that seed from Eskel out.”

“Gods, I can’t-” Jaskier muttered, burying his burning face against Lambert’s neck.

“Gotta be uncomfortable, clenching around a big load like that, trying not to let any of it spill out of you. Greedy little whore for it, aren’t you? A big knot and a flood of come in your ass, then keeping it all stuffed in with a tail?” Lambert’s grip eased, and his fingers drifted back again. He rubbed at Jaskier’s hole through the fabric, pressing in slightly with each stroke. Feeling as the fabric grew warmer, slicker under his fingers.

“ _Lambert-_ ” Jaskier choked out, closing his eyes tight and clinging to the Witcher’s shoulder. His body obeyed the relentless pressure from Lambert’s words and his touch. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Get it all out and then come for me.” Jaskier made a low, defeated sound, nosing helplessly at Lambert’s neck as he felt a rush of slick come leave his body. “C’mon.” Lambert coaxed softly. “C’mon, pretty bard.” 

Jaskier shuddered in Lambert’s arms, feeling warmth pulse around his trapped cock. He let his head fall back, mouth open in a perfect o of bliss as he rode out his climax, rocking his hips against Lambert’s firm hand. “Oh-” He gasped raggedly. “Oh, fuck-” 

“Yeah.” Lambert’s tone was warm and smug. “Heard you go off like a tightly strung bow. It’s a nice sight” His fingers plucked lightly at the damp fabric covering Jaskier’s crotch. “Now look at Geralt, and tell him how I made you come.”

“He already saw-” Jaskier wet his dry lips, his thighs shaking. Lambert slid a hand smoothly up and down Jaskier’s leg from knee to thigh, petting him gently. 

“Yeah. You should tell him anyway. Look in those big, pretty eyes, and tell him how his brother made you come in your pants with a quick rub and a dirty word.” 

Jaskier shook his head, then groaned when Lambert gripped his chin and turned his face. Geralt was moving in his bonds, hips shifting with the small movement the fabric would allow. His eyes were almost glassy, pupils wide and dark with only a hint of gold. And his cock looked painfully hard, dark with arousal and wet at the head.

“Oh-” Jaskier said, with a lazy, wicked smile. “You liked seeing it.”

“Yeah, he did.” Lambert husked out near Jaskier’s ear. “Keep going.”

“You liked seeing Lambert rub all over me? I bet you can smell Eskel’s come between my legs. You desperate for a taste of it? Would-” Jaskier shivered at the dark look in Geralt’s eyes. “...would you beg Lambert for the privilege, if you weren’t gagged? Bet you can taste Vesemir on that- that-” He scrambled for words as Lambert’s hand began roaming again. “...that dirty come rag you’ve got between your teeth, _fuck,_ Lambert-”

“Yeah. That’s enough. Did good.” Lambert’s hand rubbed relentlessly over Jaskier’s rapidly hardening cock. “Keep your eyes on him this time, gonna make you come again. Keep ‘em open while you fall apart for me.”


	13. Pure Enthusiasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t, I can’t again, Lambert- I can’t-” Jaskier’s voice was hoarse and feverish as Lambert pressed a thick, strong thigh between Jaskier’s clothed legs. Jaskier’s hair and skin were damp with sweat, his face flushed and eyes half closed. He shuddered as Lambert’s hands tightened on his hips, forcing him into rocking motions against his leg. 
> 
> “Hm.” Lambert’s voice was thoughtful, teasing, with a well honed edge. “All right, I’ll stop.”
> 
> “Gods, thank you, thank you, it’s good it’s just so much-” Jaskier babbled, his words abruptly cut off with a horse cry as Lambert gripped his ass tightly, bringing their bodies tighter together.
> 
> “After this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...okay, I'll admit it, Lambert's fun to write. 
> 
> CW's for this chapter: The words "bitch" and "slut" are used a few times, said with affection and admiration. If these specific words squick you, skip over.

“I can’t, I can’t again, Lambert- I _can’t-_ ” Jaskier’s voice was hoarse and feverish as Lambert pressed a thick, strong thigh between Jaskier’s clothed legs. Jaskier’s hair and skin were damp with sweat, his face flushed and eyes half closed. He shuddered as Lambert’s hands tightened on his hips, forcing him into rocking motions against his leg. 

“Hm.” Lambert’s voice was thoughtful, teasing, with a well honed edge. “All right, I’ll stop.”

“Gods, thank you, thank you, it’s good it’s just so much-” Jaskier babbled, his words abruptly cut off with a horse cry as Lambert gripped his ass tightly, bringing their bodies tighter together.

“After this one.”

“Wait, what- ahh- wait wait wait- please-” Jaskier’s hands scrabbled weakly at Lambert’s shoulders, the final word cracking. His body sang with pleasure so intense it hurt, every motion sending sparks along overstimulated nerves. 

“Yeah. C’mon.” Lambert growled, fingers digging in. Jaskier cried out raggedly as wrenching, dry pulses of climax tortured his body, shuddering and surrendering in Lambert’s arms. Lambert laughed and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head, rubbing his arms briskly. “Good job. Knew you could.” 

“Gods, gods-” Jaskier whispered under his breath feverishly, his limbs unable to stop trembling from the intensity of the pleasure. He let Lambert guide him back onto the bed, groaning weakly. A cup with cool water was held to his lips. He drank it down in grateful gulps, Lambert’s hand raising and supporting his head. 

“Let’s see how your other Witcher is doing.” Lambert said with a hint of mischievous cruelty. He turned solicitously to the chair where Geralt was still bound. “Doing all right over there?”

He earned a low, muffled snarl in reply. Jaskier turned his head at the sound of wood creaking, expecting to see Geralt snapping his bonds like damp paper. Geralt’s muscles were straining with effort, true, but not with trying to break free. He was working his hips back and forth with frantic urgency, moving against what little slack the torn fabric bonds would allow. Lambert laughed and shook his head, climbing off the bed and gripping Geralt’s chin in his hand. 

“You know you’re not gonna come from a tail in your ass, and that knot I tied around your balls still looks nice and snug. So why don’t you just relax, enjoy the show, and quit complaining?” He fisted his hand tightly in Geralt’s hair, tugging his head back sharply. “You want me to blindfold you so you just have to hear what I’m doing to him?” Geralt growled low in his throat, trying to shake his head with Lambert’s hand still gripping his hair. “Let’s try this- you gonna shut up and be good?”

Jaskier wet his lips at the sight of Lambert forcing Geralt to make an exaggerated nod. Geralt yielded to the motion, eyes heavy lidded and dark. “Good. Gonna give you something new to chew on in a bit."

Lambert whistled sharply between his teeth at Jaskier and jerked his head, indicating the space next to him. Jaskier burned at being summoned like a pet hound, but struggled to his feet and obeyed on shaking legs.

"Have a seat." Lambert said with a slow grin, gesturing to Geralt’s lap.. "Spread those legs nice and wide over his lap."

"There- but, the rules?" It wasn't a protest. 

"The pants won't let him get in you, and he knows better than to get on you. _Sit._ "

Jaskier sat, arranging his legs over Geralt’s broad thighs with a soft sound, his face hot. He was splayed out, barely a finger’s width from rubbing his own leather clad cock against Geralt’s bare one.

“Look like a proper tavern slut in that position.” Lambert said approvingly, giving Jaskier’s ass a fond pat. “Were the first words you said to him, ‘how’d you like to get your cock warm and wet in my tight little hole?”

"Not exactly." Jaskier’s skin burned hotter, and he met Geralt’s eyes. He couldn’t help the amused twitch of his lips as he said softly, “I love how you just sit in a corner and brood.”

Lambert bent down to speak low in Geralt’s ear. “Smell that? Hard not to with his legs spread wide. There’s not an inch of him that doesn’t smell like us.” Lambert hummed thoughtfully and rearranged Jaskier’s hands, moving them from Geralt’s shoulders to twine around the bound Witcher’s neck. “You’re going to have a lot to live up to, you know? Considering now that you’ve seen exactly how he likes it.” 

Jaskier found himself petting and playing with the ends of Geralt’s hair, soft and well combed but damp with sweat. He wound his fingers in those pale strands and tugged, groaning behind clenched teeth when Geralt bucked desperately. “Course...he’s seen how you like it, too.”

Geralt shifted hungrily underneath Jaskier, straining for long moments. He rocked his hips as he struggled to get any purchase or friction, unable to do more than jerk helplessly in his bonds. Lambert allowed it until Jaskier was gasping softly and Geralt’s soft snarls had dropped into one low, rolling growl.

“Right. Think that’s enough of a break for both of you.” Lambert snapped his fingers lazily at the floor at his feet, raising an eyebrow meaningfully at Jaskier. “Hands and knees. Stick your ass up at him. Yeah, there you go. Don’t get shy now.”

Jaskier hid his burning face in his folded arms, knees spread wide and back arched. Lambert laughed darkly. “You’re gonna need those hands. Undo your breeches and get them down around your knees. Leave the silk on, though. Show him just how wet you are.”

Jaskier fumbled with the laces, sitting up on his knees long enough to quickly shove the soft leather - now clinging and sticky with sweat and come- down around his knees. Geralt made a ragged groan behind the gag, and Lambert laughed. He raised the toe of his boot carefully between Jaskier’s legs, lightly nudging at his balls. Jaskier let out a soft, embarrassed moan and spread his legs wider in response.

“I don’t think you could have brought us all better company if you’d emptied your purse of a whole year's earnings to hire one of the finest whores the continent has to offer. Experience is no match for pure enthusiasm. He’s good. Hungry for it.” Lambert reached down, affectionately ruffling Jaskier’s hair. “Yeah you are.”

Jaskier settled back onto his forearms with a low groan, pressing his forehead against the soft rug. Lambert’s hands adjusted his hips and the small of his back, forcing him into an exaggerated arch. Jaskier bit back a low groan as Lambert trailed a caress over the soaked satin, stroking the edge of his hand back and forth over the slick fabric. 

“Proper little bitch in heat.” Lambert’s tone was full of warmth, rough, filthy words spoken like a loving endearment. He knelt in front of Jaskier and opened the front of his trousers with haste, grabbing the bard’s hair roughly and jerking his face up. He thumbed at Jaskier’s bottom lip, opening his mouth. “I hear bards have talented tongues.” Lambert said, his own pupils growing wide and dark.

Jaskier wet his bottom lip with his tongue, glancing at Lambert’s flushed and eager cock as he pulled it free. “...I get more talented with practice.” He managed to say, his eyes flicking back up to Lambert’s face.

“You’ll get plenty of it.” Lambert guided Jaskier’s head lower, tightening his fingers in his hair and jerking him back just before he was able to get his mouth on Lambert’s cock. “You be good, take what I give you, and I’ll think about letting you sit in Geralt’s lap again so he can clean your face up when I’m done. Don’t try to be fancy. Just open your mouth and swallow.”

Jaskier licked his lips again and glanced up with a smirk. “Changed your mind about fucking me, then?” 

“Stop talking and start sucking.” Lambert said quietly, his breath hitching when Jaskier swallowed him down with sloppy eagerness. “Fuck, of course I haven’t changed my mind. Gonna- fuck, easy, easy- don’t choke-” Jaskier released Lambert’s cock with a wet pop. 

“I’m good, my throat’s fine.” He sat back on his heels and gasped for breath, then grinned up at Lambert and scrubbed the back of his hand over his chin, wiping away saliva. 

“Fuck, fine, just don’t lose your spring livelihood sucking my cock all winter.” 

“Let me worry about my voice. Tell me what you’re going to do to me, _Lambert_.” Jaskier made the Witcher’s name sound like an obscene indulgence before he swallowed him back down.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty little mouth, then come all over your face. And while Geralt’s licking you clean, I’m gonna get you ready and-” A low, filthy groan caught in the back of his throat. “Work my knot into that tight fucking hole of yours and plough your ass until you call me Daddy and say it’s the- _fucking hells-_ ” Lambert made a startled sound as Jaskier’s fingers brushed lightly behind his balls, stroking with curiosity and then seeking with confidence. 

Jaskier pulled off Lambert’s cock and wrapped a hand around the sharply curved length, teasing his thumb back and forth over the slick head. He looked up at Lambert with a wicked parody of innocence, eyes dark under his coyly lowered lashes. “What’ll I say when you’re ploughing my ass with your thick knot, _Daddy_?” Jaskier slid his hand lower, squeezing the base of Lambert’s cock tightly. Lambert’s cock pulsed in his grip, his knot swelling under Jaskier’s surprisingly skilled fingers.

“Sweet fucking gods-” Lambert managed to choke out, before spending in a hot mess over Jaskier’s face. He groaned his way through his climax, then stared at Jaskier’s face in a mixture of shock and awe. “...the mouth on _you-_ ”

Jaskier licked what he could reach with his tongue from the corner of his mouth and grinned. “Bards are performers, and I’ve always had a quick mind for words. Give me a theme and I’ll spoil you with variations on it.”

“...good to know.” Lambert breathed, dragging two fingers through the glistening mess on Jaskier’s cheek before pushing them into his mouth.


	14. Don't Forget Whose Turn It Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier made a startled sound as Lambert dragged his fingers slowly back and forth over his tongue. He wrapped his lips around them, hollowing his cheeks in a way that had made Lambert curse earlier. Sure enough, it worked just as well on fingers. He glanced up, giving Lambert a cheeky grin around them, his eyes bright. He nipped sharply at one fingertip, then forced Lambert’s fingers out of his mouth with his tongue. “Making me do Geralt’s work for him?” Lambert let out a sharp, breathy laugh at that. 
> 
> “Fine then, if you’re so eager for what’s next.” Lambert hefted Jaskier over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, mindful of the mess on his face. He chuckled at the bard’s inelegant noise of surprise, idly patting Jaskier’s ass before dropping him onto the bed.
> 
> “Up you get.” He gestured to Geralt’s knees. When Jaskier didn’t move fast enough for Lambert’s liking, he was yanked briskly into position. His knees were firmly planted on the bed, hands resting on Geralt’s thighs. His face was still a good distance from the bound Witcher’s. “Stay there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 59 days later...bless all of you for your comments, enthusiasm, and sticking with me. A special shoutout to everyone at the Jaskier/Witchers discord server for their encouragment and enabling.
> 
> This last chapter was literally written one line at a time with them cheering me on.
> 
> It's inspiring to know that there are people still invested in this story.
> 
> As always, I love you all, my beautiful filthy valid darlings. Thank you if you're still reading this.

Jaskier made a startled sound as Lambert dragged his fingers slowly back and forth over his tongue. He wrapped his lips around them, hollowing his cheeks in a way that had made Lambert curse earlier. Sure enough, it worked just as well on fingers. He glanced up, giving Lambert a cheeky grin around them, his eyes bright. He nipped sharply at one fingertip, then forced Lambert’s fingers out of his mouth with his tongue. “Making me do Geralt’s work for him?” Lambert let out a sharp, breathy laugh at that. 

“Fine then, if you’re so eager for what’s next.” Lambert hefted Jaskier over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, mindful of the mess on his face. He chuckled at the bard’s inelegant noise of surprise, idly patting Jaskier’s ass before dropping him onto the bed.

“Up you get.” He gestured to Geralt’s knees. When Jaskier didn’t move fast enough for Lambert’s liking, he was yanked briskly into position. His knees were firmly planted on the bed, hands resting on Geralt’s thighs. His face was still a good distance from the bound Witcher’s. “Stay there.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaskier said with heat, his eyes locked on Geralt’s. Geralt’s eyes were nearly black, the barest ring of gold around pupils gone dark with lust. Lambert untied the rag stuffed in Geralt’s mouth, weighing it in his hand with a grin before gesturing to Jaskier’s face. “Well, go on.” 

Jaskier’s face heated as Geralt lunged forward, straining against the tie at his chest to bring his tongue to Jaskier’s cheek. “Oh, fuck-” Jaskier groaned dizzily, losing track of where Lambert was for a moment in the hot, slick sensation of Geralt’s tongue dragging over his face. Savoring the taste of Lambert’s seed over Jaskier’s skin. 

Jaskier startled when Lambert’s hands settled on his hips, giving them a rough squeeze. Lambert’s fingers trailed idly over his hips and ass, fingers probing at Jaskier’s hole through the slick fabric. “See, this is why I like going last,” he said, the curl of a lazy grin in his voice. “You don’t need all the soothing and prep. Hell, you barely need slick.” Jaskier moaned softly as Geralt lapped slowly at the corner of his mouth. “It’s like unwrapping a present.” Lambert commented, plucking at one of the bows tied low on Jaskier’s hip. “Let’s get you opened up.” 

Lambert tore the underwear off with one sharp yank, the satin parting like damp paper under his fingertips. He swatted Jaskier sharply on the ass, surveying the bared skin with a pleased smirk. “You know how I like you. Spread wide, showing off for me. If I’m looking, you show me everything.” 

“Fuck-” Jaskier choked out in response, Jaskier groaned and rocked back on his heels, pulling his face away from Geralt’s searching tongue and arching his back up.

“I said everything,” Lambert corrected in a lazy drawl. Jaskier dropped his head low and lifted his ass higher. Geralt’s mouth brushed over his hairline, pressed a soft, tender kiss to his temple. When Lambert remained silent and waiting, he reached back, and held his cheeks open, fingers tight on own his flesh. “Good, that’s good. Glad you can remember it’s my turn, not his.”

“Not about to forget that-” Jaskier said, the rest of his response lost in a startled moan as Lambert pushed two fingers inside with little slick and less preamble. Eskel had worked him over well enough that Lambert’s thick, calloused fingers slid in easily with pressure and without sting. But he’d had that cock in his mouth, down his throat, and the thought of taking it without soothing, without preparation-

That made his nerves jangle a spiked warning.

“ _ Fuck-  _ Lambert- wait-” It came out more uncertain and smaller than he’d wanted it to.

What if  _ wait  _ wasn’t seen as  _ no _ by these rough, beautiful wolves with their own ways and strange rules?

To Jaskier’s relief and surprise, Lambert’s fingers stilled instantly. His voice took on a gentler edge, not the cocky drawl from moments earlier. “Okay. I’m waiting. Everything okay?”

Jaskier took a deep, shaking breath. He looked up and met Geralt’s concerned gaze, the Witcher’s pupils rapidly narrowing back down to slits at Jaskier’s hesitation.

“I don’t particularly want to be fucked dry, or threatened with it.” Jaskier managed, with a weak smile for Geralt. “Remember that before this week, my experience was limited to over clothes and hands in pants.” He wet his lips with a soft laugh. “ ...and I don’t want to call you daddy either, if you don’t mind. If I’m calling anyone that-” He blushed and made a thorough study of the bed’s coverlet, red up his ears and the flush spreading down his chest. “...well, that’d be Vesemir’s privilege.” 

“Oh, fuck, that was just me running my mouth.” Lambert reached out and ruffled Jaskier’s hair with his free hand, gently stroking his fingers down the nape of his neck. He squeezed gently, the gesture oddly reassuring. “And ‘course I wouldn’t fuck you half-dry. Not unless we had a serious talk before. Not a brute.” He huffed, sounding irritable and self conscious. He twitched his fingers in what might have been a nervous gesture, were they not buried deep inside Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier arched up and moaned, open mouthed with startled hunger. “Oh...you want me to st-”

“I was  _ promised- _ ” Jaskier managed, proud that he could still command words with Lambert’s fingers twitching inside him. “That you were going to plow me like a spring field, and I’d really hate to see a witcher break his word.” He glanced over his shoulder, wiggling his ass for emphasis. “I’m fine now. Just use more of whatever slick’s handy, as long as it doesn’t turn me into anything or make bits fall off.”

Lambert smirked and withdrew his fingers, wiping his hand off on the shredded scraps of satin still clutched in his fist. “I can do that.” He hummed thoughtfully, stroking the silky fabric back and forth over Jaskier’s hole, making him sigh sweetly. After a few languid moments, Lambert reached over Jaskier’s back to stuff the destroyed garment carefully but none too gently between Geralt’s teeth. “Don’t worry, Geralt. Didn’t forget about  _ you  _ either.” 

He patted Geralt’s cheek lightly before turning his attention to a small shelf set in the wall and the small collection of glass jars resting there. “Let’s see here...nice and slick...” Lambert mused, studying the options carefully. “Nah, that one’ll burn...that’s enspelled...maybe later…yeah, that one.” Lambert hummed in satisfaction, and then shifted behind Jaskier again. 

Jaskier missed the warm bulk of Lambert for only a few moments, and then his hands were everywhere. Peeling the tight leather trousers slowly down his legs, then touching the soles of each of Jaskier’s feet to indicate when he needed to raise them to be free of the garment. Lambert’s hands were warm as they stroked over the now crumpled black velvet, sticky with sweat and seed. “Kinda like you in just this.” Lambert said with a soft laugh.

“You like them pretty and dirty, huh?” Jaskier huffed with a warm laugh. “You must spend all your coin on clothing to ruin for your partners.” He was rewarded with a sharp swat to his thigh for that observation. 

“A good bit of it, yeah.” Lambert said with a laugh. Jaskier heard a jar open, and then felt the cool touch of slick fingers rubbing at his hole in slow circles. “How’s that? Better?” The touch vanished, then came back even wetter, Lambert working the salve thoroughly into the cleft of Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier moaned and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, fuck, please-”

“Nice manners.” Lambert commented with a smirk for Geralt, who groaned low in this throat. He continued rubbing slowly at Jaskier’s hole, but made no move to add pressure. Jaskier began to rock backwards into Lambert’s touch, rubbing his slick opening against those fingers and making a desperate, frustrated growl when they pulled back again. “Did you want something?” Lambert asked idly, teasing a fingertip just over the edge of Jaskier’s cleft. “You can always ask for it.”

“I want-” Jaskier’s face was burning, and he avoided Geralt’s eyes. The intense desire and approval in them was overwhelming. Looking at Geralt’s red and straining cock didn’t help matters either, and he buried his face in the blankets with a muffled groan and mumbled reply.

“Sorry, what was that?” Lambert nearly cooed, words dripping with teasingly false sympathy. “You’re going to have to speak up. And be specific, if you could.” 

“I want your cock.” Jaskier muttered into the coverlet, his cheeks hot. 

“Hmm.” Lambert barely grazed the edge of his thumb over Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier groaned in frustration. “Nope, didn’t hear you. Come on, bard. Use that talented tongue you’ve got.”

“Fucking hell, you’re a prick-” Jaskier grit out, taking a shaking breath. “Fine. Fine- I-” Jaskier wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, looking over his shoulder at Lambert and meeting his gaze. “I want you to open me up with your fingers until I’m- I’m begging for your cock, and then I want you to fuck me, knot me, and fill me.” He huffed out a soft breath, transfixed by Lambert’s heated stare. “That specific enough?”

“...yeah.” Lambert’s voice was low and husky, and his free hand slid down to gently cup Jaskier’s balls. He cradled them gently before giving them a soft squeeze that felt like a promise and a threat all at once. Jaskier choked on a soft moan. “Noticed you didn’t say anything about  _ you  _ coming.”

“...up to you, I suppose,” Jaskier managed to laugh weakly. “But it’d be nice.”

“Nice.” Lambert echoed, before slipping two well slicked fingers deep inside. Jaskier shuddered, his hands tightening on Geralt’s thighs. “Wouldn’t be very  _ nice  _ of me to leave you both aching and dripping with no relief, would it?” He fucked Jaskier slow and deep on his fingers, pressing in until his knuckles bumped Jaskier’s rim before scissoring them wide. He carefully avoided whatever newfound spot it was that made Jaskier’s nerves sing. “But then, you did call me a prick.”

Jaskier wasn’t proud of the truly pathetic sound that came out of his mouth when Lambert effortlessly slid a third finger alongside. “Gods, you open up easy for it. Soft and wet and eager.”

“Fuckfuckfuck I changed my mind-” Jaskier groaned as Lambert worked his fingers in and out with wet, sloppy sounds. “It’d be better than nice, I wanna come on your cock- fuck,  _ Lambert- _ ”

“Yeah, there we go. You said something about begging, I think?” Lambert murmured idly, teasing the edge of Jaskier’s hole with another finger. “Go on, then. Oh and repeat the bit about ‘ _ fuck me, knot me, fill me. _ That was pretty.”

“Ohgodsohgods-” Jaskier made a soft, low sound, nearly a whimper at the sudden stretch, letting his eyes fall closed as he reveled in the sensation of it. “Yeah.  _ Yeah. _ Wanna feel you use me hard, feel your clothing against my back, can’t wait for your knot, want you to- fuck, get your fingers out of me already, please-” 

“Greedy little slut for witcher cock, aren’t you?” Lambert teased, his voice warm and approving. “You’ll get it. Fuck.” Jaskier arched up with a sharp gasp as Lambert replaced his fingers with his cock, pressing it in to the hilt in one smooth deep slide without warning. “Say it again. Fucking chant it for me.” Lambert’s hands tightened in the rumpled velvet, pulling Jaskier back deeper onto his cock with a rough jerk.

“Fuck me, Lambert, fuck- fucking-” The rest of Jaskier’s words died on his lips as he glanced up at Geralt and met his eyes.

If there had been disbelief, or frustration, or jealousy…Jaskier didn’t know what he would have done. Burnt with shame, wept. Taken it anyway. 

But Geralt’s gaze was tender and soft, full of warmth. Eyes heavy lidded and dark with enjoyment and lust. He inclined his head slightly at Jaskier, the barest dip of approval.

_ Go on, then. _

“Oh fucking yes, fucking knot me and fill me and make Geralt watch how much I love you doing it.” Jaskeir groaned and pushed back into Lambert’s thrust with wanton enjoyment, then shuddered at the sudden thick swelling at the base of Lambert’s cock. He startled as Lambert began to pump into him with sharp, erratic jerks, his insides flooded with wave after wave of warmth. Lambert made a rough groan, wrapping an arm around Jaskier and pulling him tight against his chest, panting raggedly in his ear.

“Erm. Lambert?” Jaskier managed after a moment of stunned silence.

“Mn.” 

“...I didn’t mean- that was all of twelve thrusts-” Jaskier squirmed on the still swelling knot, groaning at the feeling of impossible fullness. “...you’re not...done?” 

“Oh-” Lambert caught his breath with a rough laugh, beginning to slowly move his hips in a languid, slow roll that made Jaskier shudder. “Oh no. I’m not done with you yet, little fox.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this, specifically, is violaceum_vitellina_viridis fault. If you like Jaskier x Vesemir and daddy kink, may I fondly rec [Great Vices Do Appear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039117), although I recommend reading it sitting down in private.
> 
> If you'd like to talk about the fic, ask me questions about my writing process, or get sneak peeks as it goes along, I have a [SASA AMA discord server now.](https://discord.gg/KQZ2zs) (Also the fault of the lovely folks on the Jaskier/Witchers server.) Come say hello!


	15. How Wolves Fuck Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They've all been going easy on you." Jaskier shuddered at the words, his mouth falling open as Lambert rocked his hips back. He fought to keep still, squirming earning him a nearly-painful grip on his hips. 
> 
> “No one’s gone- ah, fuck!” Jaskier’s words caught on a broken gasp as Lambert lightly curled his hand around his cock, stroking slowly upward. “...what I’d call easy-” Lambert began working Jaskier’s cock slowly, softly. As though they were just getting started together, and not as though Lambert was currently working his seed and knot in deeper and deeper. Lambert chuckled and squeezed gently downward, forcing a moan from between Jaskier’s clenched teeth. 
> 
> “You don’t think so?” Lambert pressed a tender kiss behind Jaskier’s ear, voice soft with mocking sympathy. “All that careful preparation...Axii and White Gull so you didn’t feel anything but amazing? Only one knot a night, and a careful one at that. Right at the end, so if you needed to you could doze off on it.” He nipped at Jaskier’s earlobe, and Jaskier thought dizzily of just how sharp those teeth were. “You don’t know how we fuck each other, little fox. Do you want to know?”

Jaskier bit back a groan behind his teeth, his hands tightening on Geralt’s thighs as Lambert began to press slowly forward, working his knot in deeper.

"Am I  _ done _ ...heh. Gonna show you how real wolves fuck, little fox." Lambert brought his mouth close to Jaskier's ear, his voice a raspy growl. "They've all been going  _ easy  _ on you." Jaskier shuddered at the words, his mouth falling open as Lambert rocked his hips back. He fought to keep still, squirming earning him a nearly-painful grip on his hips. 

“No one’s gone- ah,  _ fuck! _ ” Jaskier’s words caught on a broken gasp as Lambert lightly curled his hand around his cock, stroking slowly upward. “...what I’d call  _ easy- _ ” Lambert began working Jaskier’s cock slowly, softly. As though they were just getting started together, and not as though Lambert was currently working his seed and knot in deeper and deeper. Lambert chuckled and squeezed gently downward, forcing a moan from between Jaskier’s clenched teeth. 

“You don’t think so?” Lambert pressed a tender kiss behind Jaskier’s ear, voice soft with mocking sympathy. “All that careful preparation...Axii and White Gull so you didn’t feel anything but amazing? Only one knot a night, and a careful one at that. Right at the end, so if you needed to you could doze off on it.” He nipped at Jaskier’s earlobe, and Jaskier thought dizzily of just how sharp those teeth were. “You don’t know how we fuck  _ each other _ , little fox. Do you want to know?”

“Yes. Gods,  _ yes _ ,” Jaskier breathed, looking up into Geralt’s eyes. He flicked damp curls back from his face with a sharp movement of his head, staring into the Witcher’s eyes, his own gaze dark and heavy lidded. “I want to give Geralt everything he needs until he comes back to you.”

“That right?” Lambert mused, grinding his hips forward until Jaskier’s breath caught. Jaskier hissed a frantic chorus of  _ fuckfuckfuck  _ under his breath. “See, Geralt just needs to know where he belongs. You can get that easy with a firm hand and a gentle voice. Oh. And a big knot.” Lambert licked over the back of Jaskier’s neck, his eyes locked on Geralt’s as he tasted the bard’s sweat. He ground his hips forward, pressing his knot in deeper and making Jaskier cry out for Geralt’s benefit. “As deep as you can get it.” Lambert watched smugly as the muscles of Geralt’s bound thighs tensed and relaxed against his bonds, his ass clenched tightly around Eskel’s thick plug. Geralt worked the satin between his teeth like a well-lathered horse, skin shining with sweat and breath coming out in deep, rhythmic pants.

“I- hff- I don’t-  _ fucking hell _ \- I don’t have a knot.” Jaskier ground out as Lambert dragged his hips back, his hand still moving slowly and slickly over Jaskier’s cock. He could feel each second stretch out, counting time in heavy heartbeats pulsing. Lambert worked his knot back until it pulled back tight against Jaskier’s rim, never pausing the torrent of soft, filthy words the entire time. 

“You’ve got hands, don’t you? Pretty hands, Geralt, don’t you think? A  _ bard’s  _ hands, and not soft, either. Long, long fingers. Fit up you easy as anything. Think about how good one would feel in you, Geralt. Those long fingers slowly curling into a tight knot, deep inside.” Lambert’s tone was dark and rich. He loosened his grip on Jaskier’s cock, grin warm against the back of his neck. “You warn me if you’re gonna come, vixen.”

“I- fuck-” 

“Try this. You don’t fucking come unless I  _ tell  _ you to _. How’s that? _ ”

“Yesyesyes-” Jaskier chanted, letting his eyes fall closed and bucking into Lambert’s loose grip. 

“There we go. That’s good. God, you’re both the same. Firm hand, nice words.” Lambert purred softly in Jaskier’s ear. “Don’t forget to breathe.” 

“Wha- _ fuck-”  _ Jaskier cried out sharply as Lambert began dragging his knot out of his sensitive hole. His nails bit sharply into Geralt’s thighs with the speed of his startled grip. Lambert’s knot had barely softened, and the sensation of it slowly opening him wide made Jaskier feel as though he was going to be split apart. “Fuckfuckfuck- I-  _ Lambert- _ ” Jaskier made a panicked sound and panted for breath, clutching at Geralt’s legs like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. “Ah, gods,  _ gods _ , it’s so much,  _ too much _ -”

“You can take it,” Lambert soothed, the sympathy in his voice tender and genuine. “My first time I got stuck on Eskel. Just like this. Wouldn’t let him press in, couldn’t bear for him to take it out of me. Should of heard the noises I made.” He began to draw out slowly again, pressing against Jaskier’s rim and tugging with short, gentle rolls of his hips. “Imagine being spread open just like this, your very first time. God, Vesemir went so fucking easy on you. Even told you what to do with your body.” 

“Did he?” Jaskier asked weakly, shuddering and trying to spread his legs wider, arch up more, anything to relieve the pressure that just kept growing, working him open a little more with each firm tug. He panted and whined, eyes screwed shut tightly. It was no use in trying to move back with each tug to keep Lambert from going too far. The Witcher was ahead of him, making his body stay right where Lambert wanted it.

Lambert’s weight was settled firmly against Jaskier’s back, leaving him nowhere to squirm between the mattress and the Witcher pinning him to it. One hand rested on the nape of his neck, keeping his face pressed to the coverlet. Lambert used the other to slowly work Jaskier’s cock in liquid motions that were just enough to tease at the promise of climax without getting him there. “Lambert-” he pleaded, his voice breaking on the name.

“All right. All right,” Lambert soothed, easing off and running his hands slowly over his skin. Jaskier caught his breath on a shaky noise that was nearly a sob. “Let’s give you something else to focus on, all right?” Jaskier managed a weak nod, then groaned when Lambert’s hand returned to his cock a moment later, sinfully slick again. Lambert’s knot was still an almost uncomfortable pressure at his rim, and the threat of it drawing out had Jaskier’s cock twitching in the witcher’s rough hand. “Just slow and easy. Hold it there, and you tell me when you’re close.” 

“Ah, ah-” Jaskier panted, rolling his hips into Lambert’s light touch. After being so overstimulated and tormented, every firm stroke along his throbbing cock made him want to scream. Each time he rocked in a way that tugged at Lambert’s knot, Lambert rewarded him with a firmer squeeze and a murmured  _ good, that’s good _ . 

Soon, Jaskier was grinding back against Lambert and groaning wantonly with each tug. “More, gods, more, please-” He breathed, squeezing down with a shudder. 

“God, you are such a beautiful, greedy little slut,” Lambert murmured with admiration. “Ready for me to fuck you properly now?” 

“I-” Jaskier’s voice wavered. He cracked open his eyes, wetting his lips with a breathless laugh. “I truly don’t know.”

“Let’s find out.” Lambert adjusted his grip on Jaskier’s cock, fingers wrapped tightly around the base without moving. Jaskier tried to buck and squirm to get more of that slick touch anywhere else, but to no avail. 

And then, Lambert began to withdraw, and Jaskier’s vision went white around the edges.

It wasn’t pain. He wasn’t even sure if it was pleasure. It was just…

So much.

Lambert’s knot slipped free, followed by a truly obscene gush of slick and seed, and Jaskier was grateful for Lambert’s nearly painful grip on the base of his cock. Jaskier was panting mindlessly, over and over, hissing  _ gonnacomegonnacomegonnacome  _ with each ragged breath. Lambert was responding, with just the edge of Axii to reinforce his words, “Not yet, not yet.”

Jaskier heard a low snarl turning into a gasping, pleading whine, and he realized it had been coming from his own throat. He focused his eyes with difficulty and stared at the red scratches his nails dug into Geralt’s thighs. Geralt’s cock was flushed red and leaking steadily, a sight that made Jaskier’s mouth water. Without meaning to, he leaned forward, mouth open and tongue wet, intending to see if it tasted just as good as it looked. 

“Ah-ah-ah-” Lambert tsked softly, his grip painful in Jaskier’s hair as he jerked the bard’s head back. “No you don’t. No getting distracted and breaking the rules, now.” He surged forward again and Jaskier groaned as he felt Lambert’s knot slowly breach him. 

It wasn’t like with Eskel, his senses still swimming and soft edged from Axii and White Gull.

He could feel everything in exquisite detail. Every bit his body spread open impossibly wide, that moment where he was certain it was too much, too much, impossible-

And then, gods, and then-

That breathless moment where he drew Lambert in deeper, his knot sinking in and settling deep. His hole feeling not exactly eased, but some relief at only being stretched the width of a thickly curved cock.

“There you go. There you go, see? Easy.” Lambert murmured, soothing Jaskier as though he was a skittish horse. Trembling and on the edge of- something- Jaskier shook his head with a whimper. It hadn’t been  _ easy _ . “Tell me stop.” Lambert said gently against the nape of Jaskier’s neck, gathering him up against his chest. “Tell me stop and you can come just like that, and we’ll just wait for it to go down.” 

“Fuck me-” Jaskier gasped out, on the edge of tears. “Please. Like Geralt.” 

“Can you take it, little vixen? My sweet, eager little fox. So wicked and soft and clever.” Lambert petted Jaskier all over, running a soothing hand in circles on his stomach. “You want me to fuck you on my knot and fill you again?”

“And-” Jaskier cried out as Lambert began slowly stroking his cock again. Languid, gentle strokes from root to tip, with a wicked twist of the wrist at the head. “And-andand-” The word stopped being a word with meaning behind it. It devolved into frantic, needy sounds.

“ _ And? _ ” Lambert soothed gently.

“I- I-” Jaskier curled his toes, burying his wet face against the inside of Geralt’s thigh and letting out a soft whine. “Fuck-”

“Say it.” 

“I’m gonna come, I can’t-” Lambert’s hand stopped instantly, and Jaskier keened and bucked, struggling as his climax was snatched away. “Fuck no, fuck, please,  _ please-” _

“Tell me.” Lambert said firmly. “Tell me what you want.”

“Iwantyourtail-” The words ran together, slurred between sobs. “I wanna come with your tail in me.” 

“Oh. Ohh, you say that  _ now _ .” Lambert chuckled. “Breathe and slow your heart rate down. Get back from that edge, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I can’t, I don’t know if I- I need-” 

“You need help?” 

“Please.” Jaskier begged raggedly. 

“ _Jaskier_.” Lambert murmured, and he felt the weight of Axii settle over him like a heavy quilt. Jaskier exhaled softly, some of the frantic tension easing from his muscles. His frantic sobs slowed, then became ragged panting, and then a deep, shuddering groan.“Shh. Shh, easy.” Lambert’s voice was low and soothing, his hands petting under the velvet of Jaskier’s shirt, now rucked up around his armpits. “ _Breathe slowly. Deeply. It’s all right._ ”

Jaskier obeyed, feeling as though his face had broken the surface of an unseen sea and he was taking his first lungful of air in hours.

“Yeah, that’s good. That’s good.” Jaskier waits for an order - to come, not to come, to open regardless of his body’s readiness. Instead, Lambert repeats the soft command for him to breathe, and that it was all right. It was all right.

Slowly, the intense, throbbing pulse that Jaskier could feel in his temples, the soles of his feet, his hole stretched wide around Lambert’s length dimmed. The sensation melted from a frantic, hummingbird fluttering to a slow, steady beat. Jaskier let out a languid sigh as Lambert let Axii fade, stroking a gentle hand through his hair. 

“...fuck. Easy to see why he loves you so damn much.” Lambert said under his breath, rolling his hips forward slowly and savoring the easy moan he gained in response. “...you don’t guard yourself against anything, do you? World’s made for you to fall in love with it. And it falls for you right back. Fuck. What’s that even like?” Lambert pressed his hips flush against Jaskier’s, rocking in smooth, gentle motions that had Jaskier melting into the bed, rubbing his cheek like a cat against Geralt’s thigh. “Easy. Easy…” He soothed, continuing to rock into him as he murmured praise. 

“Thought-” Jaskier slurred, feeling almost drunk from the intensity of the pleasure. “...you were gonna...like Geralt…”

“You think wolves don’t love gentle hands and soft words too?” Lambert said with a quiet laugh, a soft edge of bitterness. “We’re all we have. We have to be gentle with each other, too.” His hand stroked slowly in time with his thrusts, this time guiding Jaskier carefully to the edge instead of marching him straight to it, nearly pushing him over, and yanking him back at the last second. “You have so much to learn.”

“You’re a good teacher.” Jaskier murmured breathlessly, crying out brokenly when Lambert’s knot slipped free again. 

“Gonna come in you now.” Lambert mumbled against the side of Jaskier’s neck. “No knot. Just gonna...just like this. Okay?”

“Fuck, okay. Okay.” Jaskier barely breathed the words, his eyelids growing heavy once more.

“Don’t come. Gonna...put my tail in you. Make you come from it.” Lambert’s voice grew strained. “...just...just wait for it.” 

“Lambert-” Jaskier choked out as he felt the Witcher’s cock pulse inside him, adding more to the already wet mess. “Oh gods, oh gods-” 

“I’ve got you.” Lambert said against the back of Jaskier’s neck, drawing his cock out slowly. Jaskier  _ sobbed _ , his body unable to clench down against the trickle following. He felt like his whole body was pulsing, empty and full, unable to either back down from an orgasm or tumble into it. He stayed there suspended in a haze, unable to focus anything until he felt the cold press of polished stone against his hole.

“Gods, oh fuck, Lambert,  _ ohfuckLambert- _ ” The plug of the tail was almost as thick as Lambert’s full knot, but unable to yield the way flesh would. Lambert pressed it in relentlessly, listening carefully to Jaskier’s whimpers and tears but continuing to work the plug in. There was a moment where Jaskier thought it would break him, that this was finally the moment where his body wouldn’t accept what was happening. 

And then he took in a deep, shuddering breath, the moment passed, and the plug sank in deep, settling with pressure against just the right spot. There was one moment where Jaskier felt everything bright edged, impossibly clear. He could feel the sweat damp velvet, overly warm and clinging to his upper chest. He could taste Geralt’s sweat under his lips, feel the soft hair pressed against his forehead from Geralt’s thigh. The stone was cold and so, so slick, the thick fur brushing down between his cheeks and thighs when it was dropped warm and soft.

Lambert asked, not ordered. His voice was the softest, respectfully gentle request. “Will you come for me, Jaskier?” 

Jaskier moaned something that might have been “yes,” shattered, shed hot tears, came, and fell into soft, welcoming darkness.


	16. Revelations In The Lesson Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert’s words drifted softly through Jaskier’s mind as he watched Geralt sleep, his expression open and vulnerable. That full mouth, so capable of twisting into a wicked smirk or letting out fierce growl, was now slack and parted gently like a peaceful child’s. You think wolves don’t love gentle hands and soft words too? We’re all we have. We have to be gentle with each other.
> 
> Jaskier combed his fingers slowly through Geralt’s hair, noticing it was damp and clean as well. This was another truth. However rough the wolves were, there was also...this. These peaceful interludes of rest and cleanliness and comfort, to hold and just be held. He wrapped a lock of white hair around his finger, twining it slowly into a soft curl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ALIVE AND THIS WORK HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED.
> 
> Just to catch everyone up and general disclosure - I have a chronic mystery illness that puts me in a lot of pain, and it's been getting steadily worse. Between worrying about medical bills, managing pain, and just making it through every day, that doesn't leave a lot of time for writing. If you've been waiting to read this until it's finished, I understand, but that day is not today.
> 
> ...in the meantime, please enjoy a more detailed description of Vesemir's Lesson Room, a flashback in which Geralt uses his words, and Jaskier affirming his enthusiasm for everything that's happened.

Jaskier drifted back to wakefulness, clean and bare of the finery Lambert had put him in. He was confused for a moment, and then soothed by the warm presence of two solid bodies. Lambert was pressed in a comfortable warm line against his back, snoring like a well-fed bear in winter. Jaskier blinked the sleep from his eyes, feeling languid and easy, and settled his cheek back on the pillow to study Geralt’s face.

Geralt’s face was smooth and easy, almost boyish as he slept. Jaskier didn’t know exactly how old Geralt had been when they first met in Posada, but the man carried himself with age and experience. Perhaps, by Witcher standards, Geralt was just as young as he was. Jaskier couldn’t resist reaching out with a gentle fingertip, slowly tracing the planes of Geralt’s face.  _ I love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange? _

Lambert’s words drifted softly through Jaskier’s mind as he watched Geralt sleep, his expression open and vulnerable. That full mouth, so capable of twisting into a wicked smirk or letting out fierce growl, was now slack and parted gently like a peaceful child’s.  _ You think wolves don’t love gentle hands and soft words too? We’re all we have. We have to be gentle with each other. _

Jaskier combed his fingers slowly through Geralt’s hair, noticing it was damp and clean as well. This was another truth. However rough the wolves were, there was also...this. These peaceful interludes of rest and cleanliness and comfort, to hold and just be held. He wrapped a lock of white hair around his finger, twining it slowly into a soft curl.

Jaskier lost track of how long he lay like that, admiring Geralt and feeling the strange new love welling in his chest for all these wolves. So lonely and fierce, and so deeply protective of each other. The past few days began to fall into place, and Jaskier began to grasp the shape of the bigger lesson. He was learning how best to care for Geralt, and how to gift him love in ways he’d never imagined could be possible.

The door creaked open softly, Eskel slipping inside with the quiet care of a father not wanting to wake sleeping babes. Jaskier couldn’t help the soft chuckle and languid wave, deeply pleased at the sight of the scarred witcher. “Come here, then.” He murmured in a sleepy whisper. “I don’t think they’ll wake ‘til morning. Lambert was as good as his word.” He pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s forehead, then drew him closer to make room for Eskel in the bed. 

Eskel draped the soft wool robe he was carrying over the chair, and settled in comfortably on the bed, his arms wrapping around Geralt and Jaskier both. “You look...content.” He rasped softly to Jaskier. 

“I...am.” Jaskier gave Eskel a soft smile, admiring the way the scars accentuated Eskel’s features. Like the setting for a jewel. “I...think I understand now. A little better.”

“Hm.” Eskel said with a gentle smile, brushing Jaskier’s hair off his forehead. “Do you?”

Jaskier thought of the various lessons the three days had provided him. Vesemir’s structure, control, and calm dominance. Eskel’s loving and passionate embraces, accompanied by sweet praise. Lambert’s sharp edged tenderness, and his reassurance that his partners’ desires were beautiful and not monstrous. Thought of what he could add to that love and care, no matter which part he played. He nodded slowly. “I think I do.”

“Sleep for a bit.” Eskel murmured, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “Vesemir wants to see you once you’re ready.” 

Jaskier was surprised that his heart didn’t lurch at those words. Instead he felt a warm, gentle curl of anticipation, and drifted off, safe between the keep’s younger wolves.

* * *

When Jaskier opened his eyes, the fire had burned down to low embers, and Eskel was studying the bard’s face, his own expression soft.

“Ready, then?” He traced a fingertip gently along the curve of Jaskier’s jaw, and Jaskier shivered at the touch. His body responded to that light brush of skin, and a soft gasp feel from his lips unbidden. He was still spread wide around the hard, round shape of Lambert’s plug, though the cool black stone had grown warm from his body heat.

“Ngh-” Jaskier replied helpfully, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly. The sensation was bordering on uncomfortable in the way he now recognized. The seed and slick Lambert left in him was a tight pressure in his lower belly, although the plug meant there was nowhere for it to go. His pulse thudded in his temples as he nodded. Vesmir was waiting. “Y-yes, as ready as I’ll be I think.”

Eskel helped Jaskier out of bed, catching and steadying him with a firm hand when he stumbled and let out a soft cry as the plug shifted, pressing against the spot Jaskier was coming to love and hate in equal measures. Eskel wrapped the soft wool robe around Jaskier, tying the belt carefully around his waist. “You’re in no shape to walk, little dove.”

“I’ll make it-” Jaskier breathed as his cock twitched against the soft fabric. Eskel tutted quietly and slipped an arm behind Jaskier’s knees, scooping him up easily. He settled Jaskier against his chest, gently supporting him as they walked through the winding stone hallways.

The tower room door opened silently on well oiled hinges, and Jaskier couldn’t help but gape as Eskel carried him in. It was clearly not a study, or an alchemist’s lab, or even a bedroom. There was no bed. The furniture that presented itself made his mind leap at the possibilities. He took it all in with quick glances, trying to crane his neck around like a country boy at his first city market.

There was a long chaise against one wall, upholstered in rich burgundy leather and draped with furs. A cross of richly smooth and polished wood in an X, braced against another wall. Jaskier’s eyes hungrily studied the bolts at each corner - clearly to attach something.

In the center of the room was the bench that the witchers had spoken of, and Jaskier felt heat creeping up the back of his neck at the sight. Even the shape was suggestive - he’d seen something similar in his family’s kennels. Of course, this was larger, human sized. Perhaps its purpose was the same - for holding a reluctant bitch in place to be bred, hips raised to make sure the seed  _ took _ .

“...what is this place?” He asked softly, looking wide eyed around the octagonal room. The stone walls were covered with thick tapestries, which made the room feel close and warm. And the rugs underfoot were more plush than any other part of the keep.  _ For the comfort of anyone who would need to kneel here. _ Jaskier realized, heart thudding in his throat.

“It’s a place for lessons.” Vesemir’s voice made Jaskier jerk in Eskel’s arms. “Put him on the chaise, please.” Eskel obeyed, settling Jaskier down with care for his still plugged ass, arranging his limbs comfortably and then tucking a soft blanket around him. Jaskier tried to school his expression away from one of deep confusion as Vesemir pressed a steaming mug of mulled, spiced wine into his hands.

“I don’t understand.” Jaskier admitted quietly. Vesemir nodded thoughtfully in response.

“I know, pup. That’s why we’re here, so that I can answer any questions you have that need asking. Before this goes any further.” Vesemir carded his fingers through Jaskier’s tousled curls, gentle as a caring father. Jaskier closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. 

“It’s all...so much.” Jaskier admitted with a tired sigh, feeling the weight of the past few days sink into his bones. The wine was warm, and perfectly spiced, and it sent gentle heat through all of his limbs. He felt sleepy and easy, cared for and. Protected.

“Mm.” Vesemir quietly agreed. He rested his hand on the nape of Jaskier’s neck. The touch felt both possessive and grounding. “Start at the beginning, and tell me what you’ve learned. Don’t be shy about sharing things you didn’t enjoy, and don’t feel ashamed at the moments you liked best.”

“...the most...confusing part has been not knowing that any of this was waiting for me.” Jaskier looked at Vesemir, tired and beseeching. “Why couldn’t Geralt simply  _ tell _ me this had to happen, before we were together?” 

“Ah. Perhaps...it would be better understood in his own words.” Vesemir sighed and scrubbed a hand over his beard, and for a moment Jaskier could see the weight of his years. 

“ _ Hm _ and  _ fuck _ won’t exactly shed light on the situation.” Jaskier said with a tired, but warm smile. Vesemir laughed and shook his head, pressing a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s forehead before standing. 

“He’s quite eloquent, when he wants to be.” Vesemir retrieved a packet of letters, worn from their journey through many hands up the mountains. Each envelope was neatly slit open, the missives waiting folded inside.

* * *

_  
_ _ Vesemir- _

_ I have a travel companion now. A young bard, named Jaskier. Refused to leave my side after the mess in Posada. I’ve tried to scare him off, he won’t go. This is no life for a human. Why is he still following me? I’m writing to you for advice.  _

_ What should I do? _

_ Vesemir -  _

_ All well and good for you to say “Let him.” You don’t understand. He’s untouched. He smells like crushed grass and sunlight. Every time he draws near I can see how much he wants me to be his first. The words to explain what that would mean won’t come out. He doesn’t know what he’s asking of me. _

_ I miss home. Things are simpler there. _

_ Vesemir -  _

_ “Bring him, then.” And how am I to explain what’s waiting for him? The role I play. What we do with each other all winter. Somehow...he’s charmed the heart from me. Better to never take him, keep him by my side as a friend than see the disgust and fear in his eyes and lose him forever. _

_ Better to find a human to play the role for him he wants me to take. _

_ I love him too much. _

_ It’s better we part ways before the parting is too painful. _

_ Vesemir -  _

_ He doesn’t want anyone else. Or- he  _ does _ , but the wanting is different. He goes with others, comes back sleepy and sated. But his scent hasn’t changed. Not in the way that it does when- _

_ You know what I mean. He’s waiting. Professes love as bright and easily as a songbird singing. _

_ What do I do? Why won’t you simply  _ tell  _ me what to do? _

_ Vesemir -  _

_ He says he loves me. No matter what he must do to make me believe it. He agreed to spend a winter...earning your approval. And the others. He says he wants to be a part of my family, my life. _

_ I’m a selfish child, but I have to have him before he leaves. Even once.  _

_ I’m bringing him for winter.  _

_ Do whatever you think is best when you see him. _

_ If that’s sending him away...so be it. _

_ I can’t choose for him. He has to choose to leave or stay, knowing what loving me means. _

“Do whatever...you think is best.” Jaskier sat stunned, his heart ringing like a bell. He remembered those first months, following Geralt like a lovesick pup. His insistence that no one else could take Geralt’s place. He remembered Geralt’s encouraging nudges whenever anyone else- anyone  _ human _ , caught his eye. But Jaskier had limited those encounters to kisses and soft hands over clothing, and occasionally under them. Because no one had made a home in his heart the way the gruff witcher had.

* * *

Jaskier remembered the conversation before that final letter, when he had  _ insisted _ .

_ “Geralt, please. I know what you’re doing. The barmaids and farmhands are lovely, but...it’s not what I want. If you can’t, or you won’t, or you don’t want that from me- please. Just tell me so, and I’ll make my own way.” _

_ “...no.” Geralt had grunted, looking as stony as ever. The movement of the pestle in his hand as he ground herbs for yet another potion had stilled. “...if you truly want that-” _

_ “Gods be kind, yes, it’s been what I’ve saying for months-” _

_ “...we’ll have to go to Kaer Morhen for the winter. It won’t be an easy or comfortable winter. The keep is old. There’s work to be done. And you’ll be expected…” Geralt trailed off, and Jaskier noted the heat creeping up his neck. “...everyone in the keep has a part to play.” _

_ There was something unsaid there. Some trial, or some part he’d be asked to play that Geralt was uncomfortable pressing on him. Jaskier decided then and there that if he had to take down a wolf with his bare hands to prove he’d be a worthy lover for Geralt, he would do it. _

_ “...and they’ll need to approve of me. Your comrades.” Jaskier said quietly. “Before we can do anything more than...” He thought of the quiet touches, late at night when the fire had burnt down to barest embers. The way Geralt took him in hand, the yearning in the witcher’s eyes for more. The refusal to bring their lips together for more than even the most fleeting moment. “You know that I trust you, and understand that you would never allow anything to happen to me that would cause...lasting harm.” _

_ “Mmm.”  _

_ “...just tell me, Geralt. Will they...brand me, or tattoo me, or scar me in any physical way that. Will never fade or heal properly? If there is to be a permanent mark, will it be cared for? Will this...trial that you’re dreading rob me of my ability to sing or tell stories? Will they rip me from you and say I can never be with you again if I don’t reply?” _

_ “They’re wolves, not monsters. Of course not. I’d- I’d never let you endure anything I would not. My brothers and father won’t...do anything to harm you. Not without your consent.” _

_ “And...my safely passing the winter doesn’t rest on that consent?” _

_ “No.”  _

_ “Then we’ll turn for the mountain tomorrow. I want this. Whatever it is, it will be worth it to have you. I’ll play whatever part they need me to, I’ll haul water and chop wood all winter. I just. Want to spend more time with you, learn where you came from. What made you into the man you are now.”  _

* * *

“What are you thinking, pup?” Vesemir prompted gently, his fingers moving slowly through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier laughed softly. 

“That if I’d known what trial had truly been waiting for me, I’d have sprinted up the mountain and lept into all your arms without waiting to be warm.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It’s...because I’m human, isn’t it? I have to understand that you were all here before me, and you’ll be there to comfort him when. I’m gone.” 

“Humans can live a good long while. And there are...magics to be discussed, later. Should you decide that a short span is not enough time to love him in.”

“It won’t be.” Jaskier said quietly, turning the letters over in his hands. “...This has all been for my benefit, hasn’t it? Lessons in how to care for him. What he’ll crave on the Path, how to ease the loneliness in the seasons between winters.”

“Yes.” 

“...there’s so much to learn, still. It hasn’t even been a week.”

“Well, we have a full winter. And you do make a very quick study.” Vesemir’s smile was warm and fond, but Jaskier noted the heat in his eyes. There were more lessons to learn, and Jaskier readily admitted he found himself Vesemir’s willing and eager pupil.

“What’s my next lesson, then?” The bard asked with a teasing grin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering in the comments, I'm transmasc leaning nonbinary, so he/him or they/them pronouns are encouraged when you're screaming at me about my fic. (o 3o)
> 
> This work is dedicated to Julia, badwolfbadwolf, wearydress, kaermorons, crateofkate, LJ, and the entire discord crew who encouraged me on with excessive validation and hungry screams. You're my people and I love you.


	17. Tending To The Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Something got you all hot and bothered?” Eskel wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist, helping him stumble his weak-legged way over to the table. In a true show of chivalry, Eskel lifted the weary bard up onto the padded surface, his large hands spanning Jaskier’s waist and nearly meeting at his navel.
> 
> Jaskier couldn't help the blush that crept up his neck at that. Eskel’s tone was equal parts teasing and earnest. He could feel his stomach knotting already with tension and excitement. “Be good for Daddy, yeah?” Jaskier nodded and flushed deeper when the scarred witcher pressed an almost fatherly kiss of his own to his forehead. 
> 
> Vesemir cut in, patting Eskel’s hip. “Shoo, pup. I need to see what damage you knotheads did to the poor bard.” He pointed his chin towards the door on the far wall. “Go fetch some towels. If you’re in a mood to serve, you can even warm them by the fire first.”
> 
> Jaskier knew by now what the towel would be needed for, and the thought had him crossing his legs like a nervous boy at the healers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, the last chapter was a little light on the smut.
> 
> Let's fix that.
> 
> \---
> 
> Shoutout to Wearydress, who was the cowriter who gave me my running start for this chapter. If you haven't read it yet, I highly, highly recommend [Beauty and The Bear Trap](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707089/chapters/59717173) for tasty dub-to-enthusiastic-consent if you enjoy that flavor of smut. As always, read tags and be kind to yourselves.
> 
> Dedicated to Wearydress, Elpie, ButchTheDoggo, WolfErisCos, crateofkate, Agnew, locktea, and my muse, Julia.

“Eager as always. Don’t even have Lambert’s tail out of you yet and you’re hungry for more.” Vesemir's fingers trailed down from Jaksier’s hair to the back of his neck, cradling it tenderly. 

Their eyes locked, pale blue meeting molten gold.

Vesemir seemed to be considering something.

Likely many things, given the wolf’s talents. 

“Undress yourself for me, lark.” 

“Hm?” Jaskier tilted his head. There was a fluttering in his stomach at the command. It was a fair idea, the room was warm, but there was something about shedding this thin veneer that…seemed far more intense than it should. 

“Come, don’t get shy on me now. I’m just going to give you a look over.” The older Witcher’s firm hand pulled away as he hefted himself to his feet. 

He walked over to a padded table covered in leather, carefully tended to and loved like the rest of the room’s contents. “Hop up here, lad.” 

Still, Jaskier fumbled with the ties of the robe before he worked the knot open, fiddling nervously with the ends. Standing, it seemed, was its own challenge but Eskel was right there to catch him. 

“Something got you all hot and bothered?” Eskel wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist, helping him stumble his weak-legged way over to the table. In a true show of chivalry, Eskel lifted the weary bard up onto the padded surface, his large hands spanning Jaskier’s waist and nearly meeting at his navel.

Jaskier couldn't help the blush that crept up his neck at that. Eskel’s tone was equal parts teasing and earnest. He could feel his stomach knotting already with tension and excitement. “Be good for Daddy, yeah?” Jaskier nodded and flushed deeper when the scarred witcher pressed an almost fatherly kiss of his own to his forehead. 

Vesemir cut in, patting Eskel’s hip. “Shoo, pup. I need to see what damage you knotheads did to the poor bard.” He pointed his chin towards the door on the far wall. “Go fetch some towels. If you’re in a mood to serve, you can even warm them by the fire first.”

Jaskier knew by now what the towel would be needed for, and the thought had him crossing his legs like a nervous boy at the healers. The movement managed to shift the plug in  _ just  _ the right way. Hours ago it might have been nice, but now it was far too much.  Jaskier couldn’t help but keen softly, the sound rattling his own chest as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Vesemir’s shoulder. 

“Aye, that’s probably getting uncomfortable. We’ll get you sorted out soon.” Jaskier huffed, torn between melting into Vesemir and sitting to let Vesemir give him a good look over. Both were equally enticing. Vesemir’s strong, roughly calloused hand worked slowly through Jaskier’s sweat dampened curls.

“Easy there, lad. Just a quick look at everything to make sure the pups haven’t torn you or left you aching in an unpleasant way. Be good for me. Sooner started, soonest done.”

Jaskier could only nod and will away the fine trembling that had begun in his limbs. “...what do you need me to do, sir?” 

“Tsk. You just stay comfortable now and tell me if anything hurts when I press.” Vesemir’s fingers were sure and strong against Jaskier’s throat, pressing tenderly at the hollow under his jaw and the sides of his neck. The thought of such strong hands, wrapped around his throat in such a vulnerable way made Jaskier’s pulse speed under Vesemir’s fingertips. “Your heart’s rabbit quick, lad. Breathe.” 

Jaskier struggled to obey, all thoughts of steady calm breaths fleeing as Vesemir pressed against a bruise left by- Eskel?

No.

Eskel had left the one on his right side. The left one was from Lambert, and the neat set of imprints in his skin from Lambert's teeth were deep enough they hadn't begun to bruise. The ache was such that Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath. Vesemir studied the reaction with a neutral sounding, thoughtful, “Hm.” 

"Now I know where Geralt learned  _ that. _ " Jaskier fought not to squirm on the table like a mouse with a sore tail, but each press and stroke of Vesemir’s fingers was making him clench uncomfortably around the hard round plug of stone, settled deep inside his body. “Vesemir- please- that  _ does  _ hurt a bit-”

“Hmph. Can see that.” Vesmir eyed the marks, then reached for a tin of salve, rubbing it over the skin with careful fingertips. “Don’t worry lad, you’ll keep the color, but it’ll look days old and sit a little easier in your skin.” The salve had a pleasant herbal smell. It was cool, and tingled as it sank into his skin. 

Vesemir gently raised Jaskier’s arms, feeling along each of the protesting and aching muscles carefully. He followed the line from Jaskier’s armpit to his wrist, noting with a quiet grunt every place where Jaskier made a noise of discomfort.

His hands moved to the inside of Jaskier's thighs, spreading them wide for his scrutiny and noting the fingertip bruises and scratches decorating his skin beneath the dusting of dark hair.

“You want to keep these, or have them gone entirely?” Vesemir asked, sounding calm and unaffected. 

“...I want to keep them, but I’d. Like them to hurt a little less.” Vesemir’s fingers traced the marks again, eyes intent on Jaskier’s face. He nodded at last, and the salve was cool and slick on Jaskier’s inner thighs.

He might have been trending to blisters from chopping wood for all the impact the naked and trembling bard on the table seemed to have on him. But there was heat in the man’s eyes that made Jaskier’s exhausted and overtaxed body begin to stir despite himself. When a hand dropped to loosely circle Jaskier's oversensitive and half hard cock the bard hissed in pain, but tried to turn it into a gasp of pleasure.

He didn't miss the sharp narrowing of Vesemir's eyes, like a hound scenting blood. "If you don't like it right now, don't lie to me and say you do."

“... It's fine.”

“Fine.” Vesemir grunted. 

“ _ I'm  _ fine. Well, tired and sore, obviously. But considering the pace you’ve all been setting-” He laughed a little breathlessly as Vesemir guided him to lie back, hands carefully pressing on his tender abdomen. “Ngh-” He bit back the helpless noise of discomfort.

His body was clearly eager to be rid of what Lambert had left him, but his mind and heart were frantic to impress the old wolf. He clenched tight around the plug to keep it in, pressing his lips into a thin line as tears stung the corner of his eyes. "It's fine, it's all worth it, I want to be  _ good- _ "

His voice cracked on the last word. Which was terribly embarrassing given his trade. He should have mastery over  _ that _ , at least.

Vesemir's hand slid to the nape of his neck, squeezing firmly. "You've been good for all of us, pup. So good. Made us all happy over the past few days. Such a lovely good boy, so eager and sweet taking to his lessons. Letting us love you half to death." 

The small speech was as well worn and carefully tended as everything else in the lesson room.

Gentle fingers smoothed the hair back from Jaskier's brow, much the way his father's had the winter he'd had the bad fever when he was nine.

Jaskier understood in that moment how this iron willed man viewed being a lover as one more fatherly duty to the men in his care. Men likely to be shunned and rejected by the rest of the continent, Simply for the necessary sin of surviving the trials and becoming monsters to protect it from worse ones. Knowing paid company was the likely touch that waited on the lonely Path, or no touch at all when coin was scarce.

"You need to be a good lad now. Let us care for you and make you happy." Jaskier took comfort in it and eased, trusting Vesemir to know his work. Vesemir continued to soothe him until he melted into the table, the discomfort forgotten. "There we are, that's good now. Easy. Be a good boy and answer honestly. Other than your ass being sloppy, your cock rubbed raw, feeling like you were tossed down the south stair...oh, and your neck looking like a gnawed bone, anything else I should know about?”

Eskel returned to the room and Jaskier flushed, imagining the picture he must make. Half hard, tail still between his legs, knees spread open eagerly for Vesemir’s evaluating touch. He flushed and struggled to sit up- Vesemir’s hand in the center of his chest guiding him back to the soft leather. “Easy, lad. Easy now. Let’s get you emptied out and you’ll feel less skittish, hm?”

Vesemir jerked his head at Eskel with a fond smile. “Good lad. Towels on the side table, if you wouldn’t mind, and then let’s get him settled on the bench.”

“I ah- I can- you can do whatever you need to with me on the table, surely?” Jaskier made a token protest, although his fascinated eyes traced the shape of what he thought of as the _breeding_ bench yet again.

“Thought you’d grown past fussing over what was best for you.” Vesemir stated, at which Jaskier fell immediately silent. “Mm. Eskel?” Jaskier let his eyes fall closed as Eskel lifted him with strong arms, the Witcher’s bulk familiar and comforting.

Jaskier nuzzled into Eskel with a soft exhale, pressing his cheek to the Witcher’s neck.  “What’s happening next?” He mumbled, feeling a small spike of nerves jangle through the languid warmth suffusing him. “I need to know.” 

Eskel gentled him with strong fingers, rubbing over Jaskier’s scalp and down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tension away. “Vesemir’s going to get you ready for Geralt to be your first.” 

“That chance has long passed-” Jaskier muttered with a loopy grin, letting his head tip back against Eskel’s arm. “And don’t think for a moment I regret it. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Including Lambert going last, because sweet merciful gods, I don’t think I’d have survived if he was my first.” 

Eskel chuckled and placed a fond kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “You’re only saying that because you’re knot drunk. Come on, you.”

* * *

Jaskier was soon settled onto the Bench. 

(Truly, it deserved the capital B in the songs he was going to write and sing for a private audience of four).

His forearms were pressed flat along the padded supports, his hips raised high with his waist and stomach supported. His knees were spread wide, and the tail hung down between them, fur bushy and dark. 

“...wish I had a cushion to hide my face in.” Jaskier mumbled, and was surprised when a warm, soft towel was quickly folded double and placed to cover the leather under his chin. It smelled very faintly of lavender and cedar, like all the linens at Kaer Morhen. Jaskier buried his face in it gratefully, inhaling the scents he now associated with home.

“Best I can do.” Eskel said apologetically, gently ruffling Jaskier’s hair. He pulled up a stool in front of the bench, cupping Jaskier’s face in his hands. “Do you want Axii to make this bit go easier?”

“I-” Jaskier hesitated and wet his lips, then shook his head quietly. “No. I want to remember and feel it all. Just. Don’t let me go.” He whispered the words, glancing away to shield himself from whatever pain from that rejection was waiting on Esekel’s scarred face. 

Instead, he felt gentle fingers ruffling his hair, and then those broad palms were cupping his face. “I’ve got you. It’s not so bad.”

“You-hf-” Jaskier cried out as Vesemir took the tail’s base between his fingers and shifted it slightly, his fingers scrabbling on the bench’s arms and clutching tightly. “I know, I know, you all  _ love _ messy and I’m doing  _ so  _ well-” He rolled his eyes, attempting a smart grin.  He sucked in a startled breath when Vesemir lightly swatted the curve of his ass, his cock responding with an interested twitch. 

“Hush, you. Don’t make fun of the lad's best efforts to gentle you through it. He's a kind boy.” He twisted the tail, working it slowly out with a quiet grunt. “You’re holding on tight to that, given how uncomfortable it must be by now. Deep breath.” 

Jaskier tried to breathe, his skin hot all over. His stretched rim was twitching around the widest part of the stone plug, his body caught between keeping it inside and finally, _finally_ , having it out. 

“Push it out.” 

“I- gods, why is  _ out _ so much harder than  _ in? _ ” Jaskier moaned weakly, then shuddered as the plug slipped free. Vesemir stroked a warm clean towel over Jaskier’s aching hole, and he felt lightheaded at the older Witcher’s knowing chuckle.

“Perhaps because you like  _ in  _ so much you don’t want to give any of it up, hm?” He shuddered as three of vesemir’s thick fingers pressed easily in, so much but not nearly enough. Even given the exhausted and aching state he was in. “You’re wetter than a woman, and hotter than a forge fire inside.” Vesemir murmured, playing with his sloppy and fucked out hole. "Let's see...ah, _there_ -"

Jaskier nearly jackknifed off the bench with a shout as Vesemir’s fingers curled and hooked against a spot that was painfully oversensitive. Eskel’s hands on his shoulders pressed him back into the leather, grounding and steady.

“Easy, now. Vesemir's just getting the last of it free of you.” He coaxed quietly as those fingers spread him open wide and then dragged back out, bringing with them a fresh mess of seed and oil. It was slowly wiped away, and Jaskier let out an embarrassed groan as his exhausted body, regardless of all common sense, responded eagerly. He heard the clink of a glass, a bottle of some kind, then there was a cool drizzle of oil over his hole.

“I- so what’s going to happen aft-  _ oh- _ ” He shivered and clutched the bench tighter as a thin, cool rod pressed slowly inside. The vial holding the oil must be something like a noblewoman’s perfume bottle, he thought dizzily, as Vesemir stroked it in and out steadily. After Lambert’s plug, it barely felt like anything inside, and he bit back a whimper of complaint that it just wasn’t  _ enough _ . 

“You’re so perfect when you’re open and ready, waiting for a knot, but Geralt deserves a nice tight ass for your first time together.” Eskel rasped softly. “It’s good stuff, he’d be walking the path bowlegged without it.”

“Oh, gods, _please_ -” Jaskier ground out, quickly realizing the oil was bespelled or mixed with some witcher alchemy.

He knew logically the stopper must stay the same size- Vesemir stroked steadily without withdrawing it fully from his body. His body reacted as though it was steadily growing, however. Each press in the intrusion felt less familiar, his body clutching the slender, cool rod tighter and tighter.

Jaskier whimpered and squirmed, trapped between Eskel’s warm hands and Vesemir’s firm, unhurried treatment.

Until at last he was sweating and trembling with the effort to take it all.

And then the real work began.

Vesemir changed the angle slightly, and every stroke sent stars dancing up and down Jaskier’s frayed nerves. Eskel soothed and petted him so sweetly, with soft murmurs of, “I know, I know...” as his eyes filled with understanding and eager heat. Jaskier saw sympathy in those slitted, golden eyes, but he didn’t see any quick end to this delicious torment.

“There’s a good lad, now.” Vesemir praised softly, as he finally withdrew the stopper. He set it aside and corked the bottle with a satisfied nod. Jaskier took a shaky breath as Vesemir rubbed the calloused pad of his thumb in slow circles around his hole, working the last of the spelled oil into the sensitive skin.

Jaskier found he was no longer sore, no longer aching, and no longer practiced at accepting anything as large as a man’s thick thumb when Vesemir gave an experimental press.

“Perfect. Just as snug as you were when you came to me the first night. Now...” He reached one hand, shining with salve, between Jaskier’s legs, and then wrapped it firmly around his cock. “Let’s see about getting  _ this  _ feeling the way it should.”

Jaskier  _ yelped _ . There was already a small puddle of slick wetness on the well cared for leather between his legs. His cock was leaking with eager anticipation for more of the same treatment.

“Please- please no-” he stammered, face bright red and horribly aroused and embarassed at the thought of his rubbed-raw cock still going off at the first few strokes of Vesemir’s skilled hands. “I don’t want to come-” 

Vesemir laughed warmly. “I think I can change your mind about  _ that _ , lad. But let the salve do its work.” He gestured to Eskel, rubbing his hands clean on one of the towels. “Let’s get him settled in the chaise, and I’ll finish applying the rest.”

Eskel helped Jaskier back to standing on legs that were far less steady than they had been before Vesemir tended to him. He waited with a watchful eye until Vesemir was settled on the chaise, then laid the bard back against Vesemir’s chest. Vesemir’s strong arms wrapped around Jaskier, cradling him close, and Jaskier melted into the touch. He tipped his head back against Vesemir’s shoulder, then gasped when a hand wrapped around him once more. 

“You pups are so young. You think there’s only one first to be had?” He murmured softly against Jaskier’s neck. “So he wasn’t the first cock in your ass. There’s still going to be the first time  _ he’s _ the one inside you.” His hand moved slowly from root to tip, sinfully slick with the healing salve. It rapidly turned from soothing comfort to searing pleasure, making him squirm in Vesemir’s firm hold. “The first time you’re inside  _ him _ . You think you’re not going to be dazzled like a farm boy when you sink into that beautiful ass of his? When he takes you to the root in his mouth and you feel his throat twitch around you because he’s taken you so deep?” 

Vesemir kissed slowly up Jaskier’s neck with a fond sigh. “So young.” He smiled against the warm skin under his mouth. “Sex is more than putting a cock in a hole, as well. You think you know all the games that can be played with ‘just’ hands?” 

“N-no sir-” Jaskier moaned languidly, the slow, firm strokes making his toes curl and building heat slowly in his belly. “Please- teach me one of them?” 

Vesemir laughed fondly and squeezed Jaskier tight. Jaskier peeked at Esekel through heavy lidded lashes, and mumbled thickly, “...why does Eskel look nervous?” 

“Because he knows you don’t know what you’re asking. I'm only going to stop if you say 'have mercy, Vesemir'. Repeat that."

"Have mercy, Vesemir.” Jaskier wet lips gone suddenly dry with anticipation. “But- if it's just your hand on me...why would I need..."

“Shh, lad. You say have mercy, it stops when  _ you _ want it to. Until then, I touch you  _ how _ I like, as I like, and decide if and when you come. Agreed?” Desire licked over Jaskier’s skin like a tongue of flame and he groaned low in his throat, nodding eagerly. Vesemir laid his hand fully over Jaskier’s hard cock, massaging slowly. Gently.

Jaskier groaned, already hungry for a more punishing pace. “Oh,  _ please- _ ”

“Tsk. How I like, as I like.”

“Yes, sir.” Jaskier murmured, letting out a shaky breath.

“Good lad. Don’t worry about finishing. This isn’t about the end of the road, it’s about the journey on it.” 

Vesemir began to demonstrate just how many ways a hand could move on a cock, and Jaskier came completely apart as he did so.

Vesemir’s fingertips lightly grazed the head, gathering the wetness there and rubbing it slowly back and forth in gentle circles that sent shivers up the bard’s spine. Jaskier’s mouth fell open as his eyes fell closed, head lolling back on Vesemir’s shoulder.

Jaskier thought he was clever when he rolled his hips, trying to fuck into the loose circle of Vesemir’s fingers. Vesemir simply chuckled and pinned him back to his chest, his arm as unyielding as an iron bar. “Oh, you’re not getting away that easily.”

Vesemir did something wicked with his wrist, stroking his palm back and forth over the head of his cock before running his fingers slowly down Jaskier’s shaft. “Easy, now.” Jaskier nodded weakly and drifted, sighing softly and feeling the pleasure ebb and flow at Vesemir’s whim. His hands clenched and relaxed as he fought the urge to grab Vesemir’s wrist and try to  _ force  _ him to move faster than that languid, exploratory pace.

“Please, please, please-” He chanted under his breath, and was summarily ignored.

“Eskel?” Vesemir said, his tone light and pleasant. Eskel looked to Vesemir from his position, perched on the edge of the chaise and holding Jaskier’s calves pinned across his lap. “I think the passes should be clear tomorrow. It’s a warm night, and the snow’s stopped falling.”

“You think the first storm’s passed?” Eskel asked softly. Jaskier admired his ability to form words, even if he couldn’t make his lust-soaked brain turn them into anything meaningful.

“Mm, yes.” Jaskier nearly spent with a whine at the way Vesemir purred the words approvingly, groaning when his hands immediately stopped moving. He gently cradled Jaskier’s balls and pulled slowly downward until Jaskier was gasping from an entirely different sensation. Then, he nodded with satisfaction and began again. “I think we’ll have three clear days before the next storm. We need to take advantage of that. Tomorrow at first light, send Geralt and Lambert down the mountain.”

“That’s a two day round trip.” 

“Well, there’s a feast to prepare for. And some time in a market would do both of them good. Don’t you think, lark?” Jaskier slurred a noise that was mostly vowel sounds, frantically trying to do  _ anything, _ but mostly succeeding at writhing as Vesemir toyed with him. “We’ll look after you, and you’ll get some rest. Plenty of warm baths, salve, good food, sleep as much as you want.” 

Vesemir was playing idly with the head of his cock now, lightly pinching and rolling the underside between his finger and thumb and drinking in the helpless whimpers Jaskier couldn’t hold back.

Jaskier interrupted a discussion of whether they should ask Lambert to bring back a red or white wine. Apparently, Geralt preferred reds, but the cellar had plenty of them, and with a new palette in the keep some sweet whites with dessert might be just the- 

“Oh Lilit’s cursed cunt,  _ please- _ ” 

“Hm?”

“Please Vesemir, I’m begging you-”

“For mercy?” Jaskier shook his head frantically. 

“No, just- let me come, sweet gods above and below, please let me come, you said I could if you decided to-”

Vesemir chuckled, and sounded far too pleased at the request. Eskel looked...almost concerned.

“Are you certain that’s what you want, lad?”

“I swear I will walk down the mountain naked in the snow and take my prick elsewhere if you don’t.” Jaskier grit out, feeling dangerously frantic with  _ need. _

“Vesemir…” Eskel said softly, sounding almost pleading.

“He’s going to walk down the mountain.” Vesemir said calmly, continuing to stroke slowly, then gently fondling Jaskier's balls with his oiled palm. Jaskier’s eyes crossed and he sighed in hopeful relief.

“Vesemir-”

“Naked. In the snow.” Vesmir gently clamped his fingers in a tight circle around the head of his cock and squeezed upward, making Jaskier moan weakly. “We can’t have that.” 

“...no.”

“We certainly can’t have him taking this lovely little cock elsewhere…” 

“It’s...it’s not  _ little- _ ” Jaskier protested, then keened as Vesemir squeezed his hand slowly up his length. Then did it again. And again. 

“...we can’t have that.” Eskel whispered in agreement, watching in eager fascination. 

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh sweet gods-” Jaskier hissed frantically, unable to do anything but let the sensations wash over him as the pleasure built and built. Jaskier’s cock was achingly hard in Vesemir’s hand, flushed deep red and twitching eagerly.

One moment his climax was building but unreachable, and the next it was blindingly  _ there _ , leaving him shuddering and gasping as he spent in hot pulses over his stomach and chest.

He laughed frantically and writhed in Vesemir’s grip as he kept going, his brows drawing together tight. “No- oh- oh no- please- no more, it was lovely but I need a mo- ohhh,  _ gods, fuck, stop! _ ” Jaskier whimpered and bucked, Vesemir holding him even tighter as his hand continued to move.

Under Axii, coming again and again, the pleasure hadn’t  _ teeth _ the way it now did. 

And even Lambert had given him a few moments to stop and breathe.

Vesemir, it seemed, had no interest in giving unasked for mercy, and continued to milk every last drop out of Jaskier’s twitching cock, long after he was begged to stop.

It was the best thing Jaskier had ever felt, and the worst, all together, and he was stubbornly  _ not  _ going to beg for mercy.

The old man could break his wrist trying to get a plea for mercy out of him, for all he cared.

...However, Vesemir had _very_ strong wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who care about health things, I am on the mend. I am slowly getting back into the pace of writing more, hopefully this means updates will be more frequent.
> 
> If you are interested in my yelling about politics, gender, hyperfixations, hobbies, and cute dogs I saw, you can find me on Twitter: <https://twitter.com/CoastalWilliams>


	18. Mercy, Asked and Unasked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hmm…” Vesemir made a soft, thoughtful sound. “So it’s torture if I don’t let you come, and it’s torture if I do. I fail to see how your indecision is a fault of mine.” He tsked softly, a tired schoolmaster’s reprimand, and ran his slick hand steadily up and down Jaskier’s aching prick. 
> 
> “I- I’ll die- oh gods, stop, please-” Each touch felt like a shock, a stab, so blindingly good it bordered on exquisite pain. Jaskier was desperate for it to stop. He never wanted it to. Vesemir squeezed up his length, and Jaskier yelped and struggled anew.
> 
> “You won’t die.” Vesemir chided soothingly. “And I stop when I decide you’re done, unless you ask for mercy.” 
> 
> “I- fuck- oh, fuck you- I won’t-” Jaskier snarled stubbornly, gasping as Eskel ran an experimental fingertip along the arch of his foot. He tried to kick again, Eskel’s forearm pinning his ankles tightly. “Oh gods- no- that’s cruel-” Jaskier’s pleading moans were now interspersed with helpless laughter as he writhed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! The fic hasn't been abandoned!
> 
> This chapter's kinks are... [spins wheel] Overstimulation, tickling, and honest communication!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3

“Ves-Vese- _ Vesemir, sto-aha-stop! _ ” Jaskier’s startled laughter ended on a pained cry as the older Witcher didn’t show any intention of stopping his hand after he had wrung every last drop he could out of Jaskier’s shaking body. “Please- please- please _ gods _ please _ fuck _ please-” It was a frantic, muttered chant as Jaskier writhed and struggled, getting nowhere in Vesemir’s firm grip.

“Don’t hear you begging for  _ mercy _ .” Vesemir replied calmly, holding the bard effortlessly as controlling a squirming puppy. Jaskier tried and failed to bite back a truly pathetic whimper, hips jerking sharply as Vesemir’s thumb caressed the slick head of his oversensitive cock. 

“Nuh- no no- st- just-” Jaskier’s body wasn’t his own to control, and he bucked and writhed, one foot kicking out helplessly. “Es- Eskel,  _ help- _ ” He pleaded, then groaned behind clenched teeth when Eskel simply caught his ankle, pinning both his feet together over his broad lap. “This is  _ torture- _ ” He moaned, head lolling back on Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Hmm…” Vesemir made a soft, thoughtful sound. “So it’s torture if I don’t let you come, and it’s torture if I do. I fail to see how your indecision is a fault of mine.” He tsked softly, a tired schoolmaster’s reprimand, and ran his slick hand steadily up and down Jaskier’s aching prick. 

“I- I’ll die- oh gods, stop, please-” Each touch felt like a shock, a stab, so blindingly  _ good _ it bordered on exquisite pain. Jaskier was desperate for it to stop. He never wanted it to. Vesemir  _ squeezed _ up his length, and Jaskier yelped and struggled anew.

“You won’t die.” Vesemir chided soothingly. “And I stop when I decide you’re done, unless you ask for mercy.” 

“I-  _ fuck-  _ oh, fuck you- I won’t-” Jaskier snarled stubbornly, gasping as Eskel ran an experimental fingertip along the arch of his foot. He tried to kick again, Eskel’s forearm pinning his ankles tightly. “Oh gods- no- that’s cruel-” Jaskier’s pleading moans were now interspersed with helpless laughter as he writhed.

“Ahh, I see.” Jaskier could hear the smile in Vesemir’s hum, and warm approval. “Ticklish, bard?” 

“Oh, fuck you both with pinecones, stop stop stop-” 

“Such language when we’re being so gentle with you,” Vesemir purred in Jaskier’s ear, focusing his attention on the swollen head of Jaskier’s cock. Each swipe of his thumb made Jasier’s hips jerk and his breath catch. “I thought you liked these kinds of touches. You were begging for more of them, just a few moments ago.”

“Oh  _ gods _ ,  _ please- _ ” Jaskier had no idea if he was begging for Vesemir to stop, or for him to continue, when Eskel trailed his fingers lightly over the inside of his thighs. Jaskier could feel the muscles jump under the skin, and his overstimulated prick and aching balls appreciated the sensation, even if he didn’t. A weak pulse of seed dribbled over Vesemir’s fingers, the older Witcher making an appreciative sound. 

“More of that.” He murmured to Eskel. Jaskier gasped for breath as though he’d been punched in the gut when calloused fingertips skimmed lightly down his ribs, seeking any sensitive spots. Jaskier broke into soft whimpers and another painful fit of laughter when Eskel’s fingers reached the curve of his underarm. Vesemir’s fingers drifted behind his balls, slick with seed, to probe at his tight hole. “Just a little more- ah, there-” The very tip of Vesemir’s finger breached him, and Jaskier writhed and screamed, hands clenched in futile fists as he struggled weakly. 

Vesemir’s finger moved just a little within him, and he was  _ done _ .

The sensation caught his breath in a different way, and too much was simply too much. Tears stung in the corner of his eyes, and he struggled for every breath, feeling raw and vulnerable. “Stop, I- I truly mean it. Stop.” Vesemir’s hands had slowed before, but they stilled completely for the first time, giving Jaskier time to catch his breath. The tears spilled over, and he hiccupped a noise that could be a sob or a weak laugh. 

“Mercy,  _ fuck! _ ” He hissed under his breath, going limp in Vesemir’s arms. ”That’s what I’m supposed to say, I’m saying it.”

“What was that?” Vesemir asked quietly, gently resting his palm over Jaskier’s heart.

“Have mercy, Vesemir.” Jaskier wet dry lips, looking up at Vesemir with pleading eyes. “Please. It’s too much. Too good. Learned my lesson, I  _ swear _ .”

“Flattery.” Vesemir said quietly, his eyes heavy lidded and dark. “...but, you did ask nicely.” He lifted Jaskier’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and stole a soft kiss. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” 

At that, Jaskier broke into exhausted, grateful sobs, letting himself be turned and cuddled against Vesemir’s chest once Eskel had swiped the mess off his body with a still warm towel.

“Good lad.” Vesemir murmured gruffly, hugging Jaskier protectively to his chest. “Good, good lad. Did well. Breathe.” 

Safe in the circle of Vesemir’s arms, Jaskier’s breathing slowed to soft, shaking gasps, and then evened out into a deep, sated sigh. He felt his eyes growing heavier, and he mumbled with a soft laugh, “No wonder they all call you daddy.” 

Vesemir chuckled softly, rubbing Jaskier’s back in firm circles with a soft sigh. “Ah, sweet boy.” He murmured, holding him close and listening to his heart rate slow and breathing grow deep and even. Jaskier slept bonelessly in his arms. “...sweet little pup, you are.”   
  
“So. You do approve of him.” Eskel said quietly, gathering up the towels and collecting them in the basket for that purpose. “I wasn’t sure.”

“How could I not approve. He makes Geralt happy. Throws himself with his whole heart into anything he thinks will get that job done.” Vesemir’s fingers slowly stroked through the tousled mess of Jaskier’s hair. “Be sad to lose this.” 

“...who says you have to?” Eskel set the full basket by the door, waiting to be taken down to the laundry. “He might choose all of us.” 

“I’m no fool, Eskel. I’m not settling hopes on a word like  _ might _ . He’s young, and he’s human.” Vesemir wrapped his arms around the sleeping bard, hugging him briefly to his chest. Let himself enjoy the warmth and closeness one moment longer, then looked to Eskel with a small smile. “Go on. Get him clean, and keep him clean.”

“Yes, Vesemir.”

* * *

“One day…” Jaskier slurred, “You’re all going to sit down and tell me  _ why _ witchers like baths so much.” He came back to himself up to his neck in a wooden tub that was blissfully large, the steaming water scented faintly with orange blossom. Eskel was kneeling over him, shirtsleeves rolled up, and stroking a soft cloth over his neck and shoulders. 

“It’s less of an expensive pleasure, and more a necessity. Hunting takes its toll- old injuries ache if we press too hard. And we’re not invincible. The potions help, they make us stronger, faster. And the trials. But a broken knee is a broken knee, regardless of how fast it heals.”

“...you’re. All in pain?” Jaskier asked sleepily, turning his head to seek out Eskel, brows drawn in concern. 

“Old pains. Worse when the air’s cold, and damp. Why do you think the keep is so warm?”   
  
“...Suppose I thought it was a luxury you let yourselves have, off the path?” Jaskier suggested with a small frown. “Is that why you all sleep in piles together, as well?”   
  
“Mm. Soothes the ache, having warm bodies together. Skin to skin is best. He’d give it up if you asked him to.”   
  
“What, Geralt? I couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to.” Eskel’s hands stopped moving, and he sat back on his heels, studying Jaskier with an unreadable expression.   
  
“Do you truly think he cares for you so little?”

“I- well, no. But he’s stubborn and. I don’t think that-”

“It’s true. You don’t think.” Eskel said, retreating back behind a neutral mask.

“Don’t- Don’t.” Jaskier said, sitting up in the water with a splash. “What do you mean, I don’t think?”

“Do you honestly think he’d bring you here if he didn’t love you with everything he had? And fear you leaving?”

“If I’d wanted to leave I could have left-”

“Does he know that?”

Jaskier was silent a long moment, settling back in the warm water with a frown. “...I thought I was the one who was scared of being left.”

Eskel let out a soft huff of laughter, bending over Jaskier with the soft cloth once more. “You’re well paired, I’ll give you that.”

“...I don’t, you know.” Jaskier said quietly as Eskel began to work a fragrant oil into his hair. “Want him to give you up. Any of you. Or this. I don’t want him to stop being who he is. I just...want a place in his life. Travel with him where he goes. I don’t want to cage him or keep him all to myself.”

“Hm.”

“Gods be good, you  _ all  _ do that? Bad enough trying to decipher Geralt and Vesemir. If Lambert hums at me too, I’m taking  _ him _ over my knee. The only thing I truly want to change is that you all learn to use some words.”

"Words."

"Yes, words. You open your mouth, thoughts are shared?"

"Hm."

"For example, you might say,  _ Jaskier I'm desperately in love with Geralt, and if you hurt him I will never forgive you for it. And may break your kneecaps. _ Words."

“...hm.” The soft, amused huff spoke volumes, and the twitch of Eskel’s scarred mouth warmed Jaskier better than the scented water. “Maybe I’d just tickle behind them until you begged for  _ mercy. _ ”

“Oho, a  _ joke _ . An actual  _ joke,  _ see, now we’re getting somewhere.” 

“Mmm. Close your eyes, will you?” Jaskier obeyed, sighing as warm water sluiced over his hair. “I do love him.”

“Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

“...you truly wouldn’t demand he give us up? Any of us?”

“Be a bit selfish of me, wouldn’t it?” Jaskier hummed as strong fingers worked their way through their scalp, rinsing the last of the oil away. “Love is different with each person you’re with. He loves us both in different ways.”

“You know enough of love to say that, hm?”

“Well. I know enough of the world, and what I’ve seen in it. And I don’t...feel jealous of him, when I see him with all of you. I feel grateful he trusts me enough to share that with me.”

“How long do you think that gratitude will last you? Another week or so? A turn of seasons, a full year?” Eskel’s tone made it sound inevitable. That at some point, he’d grow judgmental, bored, peevish with the company of his witcher and seek brighter roads.

“I can’t promise to never love anyone else, I wouldn’t expect that promise from him, either. I couldn’t ask him to choose between any of you, or all of you, and me. I’d just ask him to be honest about what he needs, from who, and when. And I’ll do the same. I won’t just...choose to leave, without a word.”

“A good thing, too.” Eskel grumbled, combing his fingers through Jaskier’s curls. “...from here on out, it’s whatever you choose. Whatever choices you make.”

“...what does that mean?” Jaskier tipped his head up to peer at Eskel. “Not vague roundabout statements, actually mean.” Eskel huffed and settled back on his heels.

“You can choose to stay, or leave. The passes will be clear tomorrow, as Vesemir said.”

“...and Geralt won’t be here to change my mind or make me second guess my choice. That’s what you’re not saying. You think I have one eye on the door after this.”

“What fool wouldn’t weigh his options? If you’re going to leave, it’d be a kinder choice. To leave while he’s gone, so he won’t have to see you turn your back on him.”

Jaskier knelt up in the tub, leaning against the edge. He settled damp palms on each of Eskel’s broad thighs, his eyes intent and focused. He studied each detail of Eskel’s face, mapping the features in his mind, until Eskel squirmed under the attention. 

“What fool wouldn’t choose all of you, after weighing options that included you?” Jaskier caught his chin, turning Eskel’s face back towards his. “I meant it. When I said you were perfect.”

“That was axii and white gull and dim light talking, Jaskier.” Eskel laughed quietly, avoiding the bard’s eyes.

“Am I under axii now?” Jaskier’s voice had dropped lower, quieter. 

“No.”

“The light is good in this room.”

“Yes. A little too good.” Eskel said with a bitter smile, batting Jaskier’s hand away from his chin. “Stop that. You’ve had your look.”

“And I still like what I see. You said it’s my choice?”

“It will always be your choice.”

“Then I choose you.” Jaskier pulled back with a tired grin. “...I  _ choose  _ to stay here. Not because of the snow, or mysterious witcher traditions, or miscommunication. I chose to come here not knowing what was waiting because I love him. I’m choosing to stay the rest of the winter knowing what  _ is _ waiting, because I’m growing to love all of you. I want to nurture that, get to know and love all of you better. I’ll choose to stay the next winter, and the one after that. I’ll look forward to the first nights, and the bickering, and the one word answers. And each year, I’ll pass whatever other tests you choose to set me to see that I’m loyal and still love you.” 

“You should be making those promises to Geralt.” Eskel rasped softly, his eyes falling to Jaskier’s lips. 

“What makes you think I won’t? I still have to make them to him, and Lambert. And obviously, Vesemir.” Jaskier gave Eskel a playful smirk, and draped his arms over the witcher’s shoulders. “Share the bath with me. You were first. You should celebrate.”

“You’re supposed to be-”

“Making my own choices now, aren’t I? So. Get in the tub.” Jaskier’s tone was certain and eager, and left little room for doubt about what he was choosing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Good Boy, Julek!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164731) by [Lilycarroll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilycarroll/pseuds/Lilycarroll)
  * [Beauty and the Bear Trap](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707089) by [Elpie (Horribibble)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horribibble/pseuds/Elpie), [MessengerGabriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessengerGabriel/pseuds/MessengerGabriel), [Wearydress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearydress/pseuds/Wearydress)




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